


Pieces of a Soul

by MuggleMomma



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 76,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22576765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuggleMomma/pseuds/MuggleMomma
Summary: The seventh-year sequel to The Greatest Power, this story follows Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny as they begin the fateful search for the Horcruxes in a desperate attempt to make Voldemort mortal once again.  Standing tall and never alone, Harry Potter has been made ready for the battle that will decide the fate of the world, but the things he and his friends must do to make the end possible will have consequences beyond their imaginations.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Kudos: 22





	1. The Opening Gambit

"You're back, are you?" Petunia Dursley sniffed as she opened the front door and saw her nephew standing on the front stoop, his ridiculous owl and large trunk parked just behind him.  
  
"I'm back," Harry Potter agreed tonelessly as she stood to the side and allowed him to pull his things in after him.  
  
For some reason, Aunt Petunia leaned towards him as he passed. "Be smart about it," she whispered. "And don't let that confounded animal make too much noise."  
  
"Why are you -" Harry began, intending to find out the reason behind this odd behavior. After everything that had happened, anybody - even Aunt Petunia - who acted unusual in any way was cause for suspicion. He didn't have to complete his question, however, because the answer roared into life in the form of a purple-faced Vernon Dursley throwing open the door that led into the family's lounge.  
  
"Potter!" he shouted, the vein in his forehead already seeming to have reached the danger point. "You won't be staying here, I say, not this summer, not ever again!"  
  
Harry looked at Uncle Vernon in confusion. Though his uncle had tried to throw him out on a number of occasions, it had always been after some kind of upset and this (it seemed to Harry, anyway) was completely unprovoked.  
  
"Vernon," Aunt Petunia protested in her most snappish voice. "We've discussed this before. What will the neighbors think if we throw him out now? It's only one more month and he'll come of age."  
  
"Of age?" Vernon sputtered. "What's this nonsense? He won't be of age for another bloody year, and if you think I'm keeping him -"  
  
"Wizards come of age at seventeen," Harry interrupted, saying the word "wizard" with a deliberate nonchalance which belied a simmering anger bubbling just beneath the surface. "What's all this about, anyway?" He could not find it in himself to be afraid of or even much disturbed by his uncle's temper tantrums.  
  
"It's about you, Potter, inviting danger into this house!" Vernon shouted. "I won't have my family put in danger just to save your useless skin. That is it and that is final!"  
  
Harry looked at Aunt Petunia, though he honestly would just as soon have walked out of the house as stay. The only reason he was here in the first place was that Dumbledore had asked him to come one last time to use what protection the blood magic could give until it ran out when he came of age.  
  
"We'll be in more danger if he goes than if he stays," Aunt Petunia said quietly, and the room went so silent that they could hear the noise from Mrs. Next-Door-Neighbor's television set through the open window.  
  
Harry and Vernon both gaped at her; Vernon because this was a bit of information she had never given him before, Harry because he had never thought about it from that angle. Now that she had pointed it out, however, it made a certain amount of sense. Petunia Dursley was the last person besides Harry himself who carried Lily Potter's blood in her veins. Once the blood protection had ended, they were certain to become targets themselves. After all, however unwillingly, they had been the reason that Voldemort had not been able to find Harry before he went to Hogwarts and entered the protection of Albus Dumbledore.  
  
Harry recovered quickly. "She's right," he agreed.  
  
"Then what about _this_?" Vernon snarled, pushing a well-worn piece of parchment toward Harry, holding it by its corner as though it might be diseased.  
  
"What?" Harry asked, wondering what he could possibly have left behind that would have gotten his uncle into such a state.  
  
He was quite surprised to see the Ministry's Guidelines for Safety that had been sent out to all Wizarding families the prior year. Why had Uncle Vernon held onto it for so long?  
  
"You told us two summers ago this…this… _Voldy-wart_ was back," Vernon said. "I found _this_ when I went into your room to get Dudley's old television set for repair before he came home for the summer."  
  
"It's Voldemort," Harry corrected.  
  
"What?" Vernon spat.  
  
"Voldemort, not 'voldy-wart,'" Harry repeated. "And yes, I told you two summers ago he was back, but it took the Ministry that long to figure it out, didn't it?"  
  
"Shouldn't go out at night, should we?" Vernon said, becoming purpler still. "Have to watch out for those _inferiors_ now, don't we? Well, it seems to me that -"  
  
"That you wouldn't have to worry about the Wizarding world's problems if I wasn't here," Harry completed for him.  
  
Vernon stopped short, rather surprised that his nephew had voiced his next statement almost word-for-word. Deprived of the need to shout this last statement, he nodded a bit feebly.  
  
"And they are called Inferi, not 'inferiors,'" Harry couldn't help adding, growing more and more annoyed with Vernon's inability to read. Honestly, if he was going to eavesdrop on a notice that had been meant for Harry, he could at least pay enough attention to see what words had been used.  
  
"Whatever," Vernon snapped. "Point is, we're not safe, and not one bloody person bothered to tell us about it. I'd never have known myself if I hadn't happened into your bedroom."  
  
Harry gritted his teeth against retorting that if Vernon hadn't been being such a nosy git, he wouldn't have had to trouble himself in the first place. He didn't reply, and for a few moments, the silence in the room was thick enough to be cut with a knife.  
  
"Why are you back early?" Aunt Petunia asked abruptly, looking pale, as though she feared the answer. "Dudley won't be back for another two days."  
  
Harry gulped, determined to show no emotion in front of his aunt and uncle. "Headmaster Dumbledore is dead," he said as matter-of-factly as he could. "He was killed on Sunday, and they closed the school."  
  
"Closed the school?" Vernon said incredulously. "You mean we're supposed to deal with you year-round?"  
  
"No," Aunt Petunia answered before Harry could open his mouth. "He turns seventeen on July 31. After that, he doesn't have to stay."  
  
Harry really had to fight back the angry words that wanted to come bursting from his mouth. Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard in the modern world, was dead…and all they could worry about was for how long they would have to allow houseroom to Harry.  
  
"I still say he goes now, without a thought about when he 'comes of age,'" Vernon muttered to Petunia, watching Harry cautiously from the corner of his eye. "We're in more danger if he's here than if he's not. We've nothing to do with _his_ lot."  
  
"If you'd never taken me in as a baby, that might be true," Harry said quietly, deciding that it was high time to impress upon them exactly what was happening, for their own safety as well as his. "But when you took me, you sealed a blood protection charm which has kept me alive all these years. Now, when I leave, the blood protection ends -"  
  
"Like we care about your bloody blood protection," Vernon sneered.  
  
"You should, because it's been protecting you, too," Harry retorted. "You took me in when I was a baby, and you've kept me safe while I've been here for all these years, whether you ever actually gave a damn about me or not. You'll be targets now, and there's the little fact of Aunt Petunia having my mother's blood."  
  
Uncle Vernon took a moment to regain his ability to speak. "Targets?" he asked blankly.  
  
"It's true, Vernon," Aunt Petunia confirmed, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Although we've been promised the highest level of protection after he leaves, as long as he stays until he turns seventeen."  
  
"You knew about this, Petunia?" Uncle Vernon asked in a tone of forced calm.  
  
"I knew," Petunia said. "It was in the letter that horrid old man sent to me when he came." She indicated Harry.  
  
Vernon began pacing back and forth wildly, pulling at his moustache.  
  
"You knew!" he shouted finally, going across to slam the window shut. "You knew all along that this could happen, and you took him anyway!"  
  
"I had to," Petunia said quietly, dabbing at her eyes again before she seemed to recover. "What was I supposed to do, leave a baby lying on our doorstep? Think what the neighbors would say! As soon as I brought him in, that _charm_ as he calls it was sealed. We had to keep him after that."  
  
"Very clever, very clever," Vernon said rather madly as he continued to pace to and fro on the lounge carpet, quite oblivious of the fact that the knickknacks on the shelf were shaking with this agitated footfalls. "So he hoodwinks you into keeping _him_ ," he pointed at Harry, "then you hoodwink me into it, and now we're in a fine mess."  
  
"No one is safe right now, Uncle Vernon," Harry said in the same quiet, serious tone that was so unfamiliar to the Dursleys. "Even if you'd never taken me in, you'd be in danger. Everyone is. Voldemort's a killer - he's been killing all year. Mugg -" Here, Harry stopped, not wanting to inflame his uncle further. He corrected himself, "'Normal' people as well as people like me. He's killed entire families just for the fun of it, little children and babies just for sport." His voice broke just the slightest bit as he remembered some of the terrible scenes he had witnessed near the beginning of the previous year.  
  
The shock value that Harry had intended finally hit its mark, and both of the Dursleys stared at him in open-mouthed horror.  
  
"Fine," Uncle Vernon said after a silence that had extended over more than a few moments. "He stays, and this…this 'blood-protection' will stay up until his birthday."  
  
Harry and Petunia both nodded.  
  
"I don't have to like it," Vernon growled, suddenly turning on Harry. "You'll be staying in your room. Your aunt will bring your meals to you."  
  
"No, I won't," Harry responded, all too aware of his new bargaining power now that Vernon had an idea of what could happen if he left early.  
  
Vernon's face turned a deep shade of magenta and the vein in his temple seemed about to burst as roared, "You dare to cheek me, boy? I won't tolerate that, I won't have it! I won't -"  
  
"You won't lock me in my room all summer," Harry stated flatly, cutting across an astonished-looking Uncle Vernon. "I've got things I've got to do, and I need to be able to move about freely to do them. You will not stop me doing what I have to."  
  
Uncle Vernon raised his hand as though he was about to strike Harry, much as he had the previous summer when his nightmares had woken the house. Harry caught his uncle's hand in midair, however, and said matter-of-factly, "I've seen things that you'd never even dream of, and I'm not afraid of you anymore. I'll stay for both our sakes, but understand that I'll be an adult wizard soon - and allowed to use magic any way I choose. I'd keep that in mind if I were you." With that, he turned and walked out of the lounge without waiting to be dismissed. Collecting his trunk and Hedwig's cage from the bottom of the stairs, he headed up the stairs to his bedroom.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
As soon as he had gotten reasonably settled into his small bedroom at Privet Drive, he sat down at the scratched and worn desk in front of the window to write Ginny as he had promised to do before they parted at the Hogwarts gates.  
  
 _Dear Ginny_ , he began, feeling rather awkward to be writing her a letter but not wanting to disappoint her or make her think he'd stopped caring.  
  
 _How are you? I've just arrived at the Dursley's and I think things are going to be okay this summer, mainly because Uncle Vernon's afraid of what I might do after I come of age and can use magic. We had a bit of a row when I first got here, but things are straight now. He tried to chuck me out, but Aunt Petunia wouldn't let him. It was really weird.  
  
Did you get to the Burrow safely? Please send Hedwig back and let me know as soon as you can. It feels strange, being away from you. I've gotten used to seeing you every day, you know, and now I feel like something's gone. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I miss you.  
_  
Harry chewed the tip of his quill, trying to figure out how to close the letter. He hadn't been apart from Ginny for more than a day since the previous summer, so he hadn't had occasion to write to her since they had been together. Throwing embarrassment to the wind, he wrote:  
  
 _I love you. Please stay safe._  
  
 _Harry_  
  
Rereading the letter, he hastily added a post-script:  
  
 _P.S. Tell Ron and Hermione that I'll write to them tomorrow. I want to get started looking at that packet Aberforth gave me before we left._  
  
Finally satisfied with his efforts, Harry rolled the parchment into a small scroll and used a leather thong to attach it to Hedwig's leg. He stood at the window for a few moments, watching her fly off towards the Burrow, and gave himself a mental shake as she disappeared from sight. _You've got work to do, Potter_ , he told himself sternly. _Mooning over Ginny isn't going to end this any faster. Get a grip_.  
  
With that thought in his head, he finally pulled the leather pouch Aberforth had given him that morning towards him. For a few seconds, he simply sat at his desk staring at the smooth brown of the well-worn leather, almost afraid to find out what was inside. Giving himself another mental shake, he slowly undid the brass fastening and pulled a sheath of parchment no less than two inches thick from inside of it.  
  
The first thing Harry did was to re-read the letter Dumbledore had written expressly to him. He knew now that this letter had been the reason Dumbledore had been delayed in coming to the battle; he had wanted to take the time to 'speak' with Harry one last time before he endeavored to do whatever it was he had done with the silver ring, whatever it was that had weakened him to the point of costing him his own life.  
  
Harry's eyes smarted with tears that he hastily blinked back as he read the letter once again, and he could almost hear Dumbledore's aged but smooth voice as he traced his fingers over the words. With a hand shaking from anticipation and anxiety, Harry set the letter aside, knowing it was separate from the rest of the packet and wanting to make sure that he did not lose it under any circumstances.  
  
The next pages were written in the same spindly handwriting as the Headmaster's letter and contained a variety of different-colored inks, much as though the writer had written part of the page then stopped and continued later with a different pot of ink and perhaps a different quill.  
  
For hours, Harry flipped through the pages, squinting at the familiar handwriting, ordering and re-ordering them, but when the night had grown pitch-black and his eyes were starting to ache from the strain, he was no closer to understanding the contents than he had been before he'd ever looked at them.  
  
The only part that had made any sense to him was a section of two or three pages near the middle which had been labeled in the top, left-hand corner "Gaunt Ring." Harry guessed, since there was no other mention of rings in the rest of the packet, that this might be the very silver ring which had cost Dumbledore his life. Those were the only two words he could decipher, however…the rest of it seemed unintelligible and was sprinkled liberally with words Harry did not understand. One word, in particular, he could not find in any of his textbooks, though he had looked several times: horcrux. Another group of words seemed to be an incantation of some sort, but even with what knowledge Harry had about Latin and incantations, he could not figure out what it meant. _I'll have to ask Hermione about this_ , he thought ruefully, knowing that his friend would have been able to translate the incantation in a heartbeat. Once again, he realized that he would not have gotten far without his two best friends, and he hoped that they would find some way to come and visit before too much of the summer passed.  
  
Drained from a day full of sadness, surprise and tension, Harry fell into his narrow bed well after midnight, resolving to begin again the next day. If necessary, he was certain he could place an owl order with Flourish and Blotts for some more books, and he knew also that he would be asking for Hermione's help as soon as possible. That, however, would be much harder, considering that he could not exactly ask the questions he needed to ask via owl post.  
  
Harry's last thought as he drifted into an uneasy sleep was that he would have given anything at that moment to be at the Burrow with the ones he loved best.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
"Grea' man, Dummledore," Hagrid slurred to Tom, the barkeep at the Leaky Cauldron. "Grea' man." Hagrid made a sweeping gesture with his large mug, spilling half a pint of oak-matured mead on the wooden countertop as he did so.  
  
"Yes, Hagrid, he was a great man," Tom said patiently and not without a note of his own sadness and fear. Though he had not known Albus Dumbledore since his own school days long before he had taken over management of the Leaky Cauldron, he could not help fearing what would happen without the greatest wizard of the age around to thwart the efforts of the most evil one.  
  
"Always washin' out fer folks, 'e was," Hagrid continued, motioning for Tom to refill his cup. "'ways wanted the bess fer ev'rybody, din't he?"  
  
Tom debated for a moment about refusing to serve Hagrid another drink, seeing as how he had clearly had too much already. However, as he gazed into the devastated face of the Hogwarts gamekeeper, a wave of pity washed over him. Hagrid was obviously deep in mourning for Dumbledore and not handling it too well. Tom refilled his cup silently, thinking that he would most likely pass out after this one anyway. Hagrid had been staying at the Leaky Cauldron for the past five days, each of which he had spent drinking himself into a stupor and then passing out in his room upstairs. It seemed as though the half-giant could not bear the thought of going back to Hogwarts.  
  
"Grea' man," Hagrid mumbled again, drinking deeply from his freshly-replenished mug. "Affer me da' died, 'e always took a speshel int'rest in me, din't he? An' when I go' esspelled…"  
  
"He took you in as gamekeeper, believing correctly that you had been innocent," Tom supplied as Hagrid's sentence trailed off and the large man buried himself in his mug once again. He had certainly heard this story enough times in the past few days to be able to recite it by heart, and Hagrid had been one of his very few customers, anyway. People were now so frightened that most were afraid to leave their homes for any but the most essential of errands.  
  
"C'rectly," Hagrid agreed drowsily. "Dummledore…'e was always c'rect, washn't 'e?"  
  
"Most of the time," Tom agreed, wiping more spilled mead from the counter and hoping that Hagrid would fall asleep soon.  
  
Just as he was about to suggest that the huge man at his bar go upstairs to his room for the night, a loud bang shocked Tom, Hagrid and the other two occupants of the pub into stunned silence. Within a few moments, it was clear: Diagon Alley was under attack.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
"Right, I'll just nip into the back room to get some more -" Percy began cheerfully, ready to fill an order large enough that it would allow Weasley's Wizard Wheezes to make a sorely-needed expansion. As he was fumbling with his large key ring, a shout from his brother interrupted him.  
  
"Perce!" George yelled from the front of the shop. "We've got trouble!"  
  
Percy dropped the keys and drew his wand, knowing immediately from George Weasley's tone just what kind of trouble he meant. They had both been afraid of this; as Voldemort and his Death Eaters became more active and more open in their activities, everyone who worked on Diagon Alley knew that they were in danger.  
  
"Mr. Weasley!" Valerie, the young woman who served as an assistant in the shop, sounded panicked. She, too, had drawn her wand, but her hand was shaking.  
  
"Get behind the counter, Valerie, and stay low," Percy said sharply as he hurried past her to the front door, where George was already shooting hexes and raising shields in an attempt to protect himself and his store. Percy and George were both well aware that Valerie's magical abilities were very low; she had achieved only one OWL in her time at school, but she had an excellent way with customers and was quite good at running the front counter of the shop. On the whole, Percy and George were both very pleased with her, but during a time like now, the best place for her was out of the way.  
  
"Percy!" George shouted again. "I need you up here! They're attacking the store!"  
  
Sure enough, three masked Death Eaters seemed to be focusing on Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, possibly intent upon destroying the anti-dark objects that George and Percy had begun selling out of the back of the store or possibly simply intent on destroying anything that allowed anyone else enjoyment or laughter.  
  
Percy joined his brother and began dueling expertly with the Death Eaters as George quickly muttered an incantation to bring the usual nighttime wards up around the store.  
  
" _Expelliarmus_!" Percy shouted victoriously a few minutes later, sweat running down his face as he caught the wand in his hand and immediately snapped it in two. " _Incarcerous_!" Long white ropes flew out the end of the wand and bound the fallen Death Eater.  
  
" _Petrificus Totalus_ ," George said fiercely, immobilizing another Death Eater just as he tried to unbind his comrade. "Not so much fun when it happens to you, is it?" he asked in a voice Percy did not even recognize. He raised his wand again. "Cruc -"  
  
"George!" Percy yelled, shooting a hex at the remaining Death Eater. "No!"  
  
George stopped, looking aghast at what he had almost done. He stepped forward, yanked the wand from the petrified Death Eater's hand and snapped it cleanly in two.  
  
" _Impedimenta_!" Percy cried, throwing the last Death Eater back as he or she attempted to intercept George.  
  
" _Petrificus Totalus_!" George yelled once again, the unfamiliar ferocity still in his voice. Before George could do anything else, Percy stepped forward and confiscated the Death Eater's wand and snapped it, looking down the street as a band of Aurors rushed toward the back entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
Binding the Death Eaters together and placing them under an Anti-Apparation charm, Percy whispered to George. "Come on, let's get inside. Valerie's scared to death. We're all right now, the Aurors are here."  
  
Without another glance at his enemies, George turned on his heel and went back into the shop, taking a terrified and shaking Valerie into his arms.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Hagrid had had so much to drink that even the sounds of the battle beyond the wall did not sober him. Enraged, he stood, weaving back and forth as the pub came into slow focus. Tom the barkeep had run to the back entrance of the pub and the other two patrons had charged into the battle, their wands raised. For which side they were fighting, Hagrid did not know or care. Here, at last, was a chance to avenge the Headmaster's death, and even through his drunken haze Hagrid would not let it pass.  
  
He neared the back entrance of the Leaky Cauldron just as a female Death Eater screamed triumphantly, " _Avada Kedavra_!" The jet of green light hit Tom squarely in the chest, and he fell soundlessly, having given his life in the fruitless defense of his pub.  
  
With a bellow of rage, Hagrid seized his pink umbrella just as Bellatrix Lestrange and one other Death Eater entered the pub.  
  
"The Aurors will be coming this way when they discover the barman's body," Bellatrix whispered savagely. "We will make our escape into Muggle London, just as the Dark Lord commanded. Come, Dolohov."  
  
"Yeh'll have to get past me, won't yeh!" Hagrid yelled drunkenly, his pink umbrella pointing absurdly at the advancing black-robed figures.  
  
"'Yeh'll have to get past me,'" Bellatrix mocked, raising her wand once again. "Filthy half-human, you really think you could defeat Bellatrix Lestrange, the Dark Lord's most trusted -"  
  
"Im- impedimenta!" Hagrid cried semi-clearly, pointing his umbrella straight at her. The jinx, however, did not work. Apparently, the two pieces of Hagrid's wand were not sufficient to correctly channel his magic, and all he was able to do was send golden sparks into the air toward her.  
  
Bellatrix laughed insanely, standing still on the spot. "Hit me, then, half-human," she taunted.  
  
" _Crucio_!" Dolohov cast his first spell while Hagrid was distracted by Bellatrix and still weaving drunkenly on the spot.  
  
Hagrid's tough skin, inherited from his giantess mother, protected him from the worst of the spell. All he did was flinch as the red light hit him in the side, and he turned a face contorted by murderous rage toward his attacker. "Incarsheris!" he slurred, messing up the binding spell with his tongue thickened by too much mead.  
  
Three pink parakeets emerged from Hagrid's wand, but they seemed to be as drunk as he was, for they immediately flew straight into the stone wall of the pub, breaking their necks and falling dead to the floor.  
  
Bellatrix and Dolohov both laughed uproariously as Hagrid gazed in sadness at the dead birds. "Sorry," he muttered uselessly to them.  
  
" _Diffindo_!" Bellatrix suddenly screeched, whooping in triumph as a shallow gash appeared across Hagrid's chest. Though the injury in and of itself was not dangerous, she had done what she intended to do - she had made a hole in Hagrid's tough skin.  
  
" _Diffindo_!" Dolohov echoed, causing another shallow gash to appear along the half-giant's left side.  
  
"Eshpeliermus!" Hagrid once again marred the incantation with his thick tongue, and when nothing happened, he resorted to swinging his umbrella through the air, attempting to physically assault his attackers in any way possible.  
  
" _Crucio_!" Bellatrix said again, this time aiming the spell directly at the cut she had caused along Hagrid's chest.  
  
Her idea of breaking Hagrid's skin had been effective, and the whole pub shook as Hagrid fell to the ground, screaming hoarsely as every nerve in his body exploded in pain.  
  
"And now," Bellatrix purred, stepping up to Hagrid's body as she lifted the curse several moments later, "we will finish you. The Dark Lord will be pleased. Dolohov," she snapped abruptly. "See that we are undisturbed for a few more moments."  
  
Dolohov nodded dumbly and remained at the back entrance, to which he had retreated as Bellatrix had cursed Hagrid.  
  
" _Diffindo_! _Diffindo_! _Diffindo_!" Bellatrix chanted, aiming her wand at different parts of Hagrid's huge body. Larger gashes opened and Hagrid howled in pain, groping uselessly for his umbrella, which had fallen just out of his reach.  
  
"Yeh dirty, yeh filthy…Death Eater!" Hagrid growled, looking up at her defiantly. Suddenly, with a roar of pain and rage, he righted himself, grabbed one of the stools from the bar, and attempted to bring it down over her head.  
  
" _Wingardium leviosa_!" Bellatrix said, flicking her wand lazily and causing the bar stool to float uncertainly over Hagrid's own head for a moment before crashing to the ground.  
  
Hagrid hardly noticed as the stool hit him as it fell. He simply charged at Bellatrix, completely heedless of her raised wand as he got closer, intending to beat her to a pulp with his gigantic raised fists.  
  
"The Aurors are coming!" Dolohov suddenly called. "We must not be caught, Bellatrix. The Dark Lord's orders -"  
  
"I know what the orders are, you idiot!" Bellatrix screeched before she turned back to Hagrid, who was still advancing on her with his fists raised.  
  
" _Avada Kedavra_!" she screamed triumphantly, again aiming at one of the gashes on Hagrid's ravaged body.  
  
The pub floor shook again as Hagrid fell, and Bellatrix and Dolohov stepped around him unconcernedly as they hurried out the front door into Muggle London, where they disapparated the moment they were free of the enchantments placed upon the ruined pub.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Sunrise on June the eighth found Harry sitting on the bench in Number Four, Privet Drive's back garden, a copy of the morning's Daily Prophet held limply in his right hand. None of the Dursley's were awake yet, but Harry, conditioned by now to wake up and pay the owl which brought his newspaper each morning, had come outside, feeling as though he could not stay in his room another moment.  
  
The past few days had not gone well. Harry had come no closer in his search for the meaning of Dumbledore's notes; Hermione and Ron were not allowed to visit yet, Lupin had not come by, and though he had ordered several books on dark magic from Flourish and Blotts, they had not yet arrived.  
  
Now it looked like they might not ever come, for Harry had just read the news of the attack on Diagon Alley from the front page of the Prophet, which sported a picture of the Dark Mark hovering over Gringotts, the Wizarding bank, and the news was that few of the shops on the main road were spared, though Knockturn Alley had apparently been left undisturbed. Harry could not bring himself to care too much about any of this, however. All he could think about was a sentence near the end of the article, explaining that " _Rubeus Haggard, the half-giant gamekeeper at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was killed at the Leaky Cauldron after apparently having consumed more than twenty pints of oak-matured mead_."  
  
A weight comprised of anger, guilt and immense sadness overcame Harry as he sat on the bench and stared at the hedge. Over the past six days, he had written to Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Lupin and even Mrs. Weasley, but he had not once thought about Hagrid, who must have been feeling Dumbledore's death as much as he, Harry, was. Dumbledore, in many ways, had been a father-figure to Hagrid for over fifty years.  
  
 _How could I not have written him_? _How could I not have asked how he was_? Harry chided himself over and over. His rage at the Death Eaters who had killed Hagrid grew exponentially with each passing moment, and as the sun peeked hesitantly over the neatly-trimmed hedges of the Dursleys' back garden, Harry swore once again that he would take as many of them down as he could along the way. He did not yet know the identity of Hagrid's attackers, or even how he had been killed, but those details did not matter. The only thing that did was the glaring fact that Hagrid was dead.  
  
Harry's heart was heavy as he sat staring at the hedge for what seemed like hours, not even noticing as the sun lost its hesitancy and emerged boldly over the horizon, heralding what was sure to be a pleasantly warm, clear summer day. He could not really see the light as visions of Hagrid played out in his head…Hagrid, welcoming the first-years onto the boats for their first glimpse of Hogwarts. Hagrid, offering a plate of inedible rock-cakes to Harry, Ron and Hermione whenever they came to visit. Hagrid, with his love for bizarre and dangerous creatures, who had been killed by the most bizarre and dangerous creature known to Wizardkind: a Death Eater. Hagrid…  
  
"You've heard, then," said a quiet voice behind him, startling Harry so that he jumped off the bench, his wand raised and ready to strike.  
  
"Moony," he said in surprise, lowering his wand immediately and looking into his guardian's gray eyes with his blood-shot green ones. "Yeah," he muttered. "I saw it in the _Prophet_."  
  
"That's not the way I would have chosen for you to find out, Harry," Lupin said, striding forward to give Harry a tight one-armed hug.  
  
"It's okay," Harry muttered. "They didn't even get his name right." Suddenly, he looked up at Remus Lupin, his expression somewhat accusing. "Why wasn't anyone with him? Why did everyone leave him all alone?"  
  
Lupin sighed. "The Ministry and the school are in shambles, Harry," he said seriously, but not without some regret. "Voldemort and the Death Eaters have been attacking right and left, and the Order and the school staff have been running themselves ragged trying to set things to rights. Someone should have been with Hagrid. You're right. But there just wasn't anybody."  
  
Harry nodded stiffly, knowing that Lupin was right.  
  
"Hagrid came up against Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry," Lupin told him, his voice hardening. "The Aurors saw her and another Death Eater, who we believe was either Rodolfus Lestrange or Antoin Dolohov, go into the back entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. They must have left from the front and Disapparated."  
  
"Couldn't get there in time to save Hagrid, could they?" Harry asked bitterly.  
  
"Not Hagrid, nor Tom the barkeep," Lupin responded seriously. "Harry, Hagrid's death must be terrible for you -"  
  
"It's terrible for everyone," Harry responded bluntly, not attempting to hide the grief in his voice. For this moment, just this moment, he needed to forget everything else out of respect and mourning for his friend.  
  
"I know," Lupin said heavily.  
  
"He's got to be stopped," Harry said, abruptly standing up. "I need help, Lupin. I don't know what I'm looking at."  
  
"What you're looking at?" Lupin asked blankly, not having known about Dumbledore's packet.  
  
"Come upstairs with me," Harry said, resolving that Lupin, at least, would need to know what was going on.  
  
"All right, Harry," Lupin said with some confusion. "But there's something we need to do first. Follow me."  
  
Harry followed his guardian through the back door of Number Four, Privet Drive, quite ignoring Aunt Petunia's gasp of alarm and Uncle Vernon's bellows of rage as they passed through the kitchen into the lounge. Dudley, who had returned from Smeltings a few days prior, was obviously having yet another lie-in; Harry hadn't known him to rise before ten since he had come home.  
  
Lupin stopped in front of the fire and drew his wand.  
  
"What the devil do you think you're doing?" Uncle Vernon demanded, following them into the lounge as fast as his considerable weight would allow him to do.  
  
"Hello, Mr. Dursley," Lupin said dryly. "Not to worry, I'm just going to be connecting your fireplace to the Floo Network for the remainder of Harry's stay. We can't have him left without means to communicate, can we? Not to worry," he added as Vernon's face turned a dark shade of puce, "it's quite secure, I assure you." He waved his wand lazily, causing the boarded-up façade and the electric fireplace to vanish completely, leaving only an empty grate. Another wave of his wand produced a fair amount of kindling and some larger logs of wood.  
  
"I don't want my fireplace connected to that…that _fruit network_ ," Vernon spat. "I forbid it. I agreed to keep that boy under my roof -"  
  
"Only because it saved your own skins for another month," Harry broke in, determined not to let his uncle play the part of the generous martyr.  
  
"You've been eating food I paid for, and you've got clothes I bought on your ungrateful back -"  
  
"Only because Dudley outgrew them," Harry cut in again.  
  
"And it's my home, and I don't want it connected to any network!"  
  
"Of course, Mr. Dursley, that's your choice," Lupin said mildly. "However, I am afraid I will be unable to leave Harry here with no means to communicate with his friends. Owls are no longer secure, you see." He carefully avoided mentioning Harry's amulet, which allowed Harry to talk to Lupin alone; he knew that Harry needed more contact than that.  
  
"Then take him!" Vernon exclaimed victoriously. Would this be all he would have to do to get that nephew of his out of the house for good?  
  
"Certainly," Lupin agreed as Harry gaped at him, knowing the blood protection would void itself immediately upon his departure.  
  
"You just make sure that your kind offer us all the protection from this…this…"  
  
"Voldemort," Harry supplied helpfully.  
  
"Right," Vernon said. "You're to make sure we're protected, just like that Headmaster of yours promised my wife."  
  
"Ah," said Lupin regretfully. "That's where we'll hit a problem, isn't it? You see, Mrs. Dursley here," he indicated Aunt Petunia, who was watching the scene from the kitchen doorway, her lips pursed and white, "entered into a binding magical contract which clearly states, I'm afraid, that we may only offer our protection if Harry remains under your roof up to his seventeenth birthday."  
  
Harry had to fight a mad urge to laugh at the way Lupin had cornered the bullying Uncle Vernon, whose face was, once again, darkening into an alarming shade which clearly foretold an imminent coronary.  
  
"You'll just have to break your contract, then, won't you?" Vernon snarled. "It's your decision to take the boy out of the house. I haven't sent him off, as much as I'd like to."  
  
"I'm afraid the contract could only be broken with the consent of both committed parties," Lupin said, his voice now sad and serious. Harry knew the change of tone had come because of the pain Lupin was experiencing as he thought about Professor Dumbledore and the fact that he would be unable to break any contracts, whether he wanted to or not.  
  
"Vernon," Aunt Petunia said sharply, though her voice sounded somewhat defeated. "We will have to allow it."  
  
"How much is a man required to take in his own home?" Vernon shouted, his temper going completely.  
  
"It's only for another three weeks," Petunia replied.  
  
"The network will be restricted," Lupin assured them in a chilly voice, "to this house, the Burrow, which is where Harry's friends are, and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It will be undetectable by any other parties."  
  
"You just see that these…people…don't touch anything in my home," Aunt Petunia sniffed.  
  
"Certainly," Lupin responded in a would-be cheerful voice, though Harry noticed for the first time just how drawn and tired his guardian looked.  
  
"Moony?" he asked uncertainly. "Are you -"  
  
"I'm quite well, Harry," Lupin responded. "Kindly stand aside for a moment while I make the connection."  
  
Harry stood back, completely unconvinced that Lupin was telling him the truth. He watched as Lupin lit a fire in the grate, waved his wand in a complicated pattern over it, and then threw a small bit of parchment into the flames, where it burned with a purple flare. The fire turned the familiar green of the Floo Network for a moment and then went out completely.  
  
"See, there was nothing much to it," Lupin said pleasantly. "No, if you'll excuse us, Harry and I have some things we must discuss before I take my leave."  
  
Leaving the astounded and highly annoyed Dursleys behind in the lounge, Harry and Lupin left the room and went up the stairs.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
"Er, sorry about my room," Harry said in embarrassment as he and Lupin came through the door and drew the curtains.  
  
The room was, indeed, a disaster. Intent upon his efforts and dealing with immense amounts of frustration, Harry had completely disregarded placement of books, letters, spare bits of parchment, owl droppings and trash. It was a good thing Aunt Petunia avoided his room like it contained a dangerous and contagious germ, because if she had seen the state of it, she probably would have died of shock right from the doorway.  
  
"Quite all right, Harry," Lupin said, noting to his own satisfaction that several notes from Ron, Hermione and Ginny were present alongside the ones he himself had sent over the course of the past week. "I can see you've been busy," he commented wryly.  
  
"Yeah, for all the good it's done," Harry muttered. Now that the entertaining conversation between Lupin and the Dursleys had come to a conclusion, Hagrid's death had come rushing back to him in an unpleasant wave.  
  
"What have you got here, Harry?" Lupin asked with not a small amount of intrigue. "Dumbledore's notes? I recognize the handwriting, of course, but he never mentioned…" Lupin ran his finger down several pages of parchment in silence while Harry waited, hastily lobbing dirty socks into his trunk and trying to gather things into neater piles.  
  
"Horcruxes," Lupin muttered. "But surely, even Voldemort -"  
  
"Yes," Harry said. "Horcruxes. Dumbledore wrote that word over and over, and I can't figure out anything except that I think that ring was one, whatever that is…"  
  
"The ring?" Lupin asked sharply. "The one he was wearing the day of the battle?"  
  
"The one that killed him," Harry said bitterly.  
  
"Of course," Lupin muttered. "Only that would be important enough for Dumbledore to…when there was so much risk…"  
  
"What?" Harry asked, wishing his guardian would stop muttering and would explain things properly.  
  
"If the ring was a horcrux…if there are really six of them besides Voldemort himself…" Lupin said contemplatively.  
  
"What the bloody hell is a horcrux?" Harry finally burst out, tired of the leading statements.  
  
"A horcrux, Harry, is the objectification of the most evil magic in existence," Lupin explained, finally looking his charge directly in the eye.  
  
"Well, that's not much of a surprise, is it, if Voldemort uses them," Harry commented sarcastically.  
  
"Be quiet, Harry, and let me think," Lupin snapped, and Harry was slightly taken aback. He continued in a more patient tone, "A horcrux is made when a wizard splits his own soul in two, hiding part of it in an inanimate object. It can only be done if the wizard has committed the foulest offense imaginable - murder."  
  
"Voldemort split his soul?" Harry asked, though the pieces were starting to fit together from everything he had looked at in the past few days and witnessed in the past six years. "Of course," he muttered. "That'd be why he didn't die when he tried to kill me. He still had pieces of his soul roaming around."  
  
"You're right, Harry," Lupin said. "And you hit the nail on the head when you said 'pieces,' for Dumbledore did not believe that Voldemort only split his soul once, but that he did it many times."  
  
"So now I've got to find all of them before I can have a hope of killing him," Harry said, already feeling overwhelmed.  
  
"Yes, but Harry, we don't have enough information to go on with yet," Lupin cautioned. "We need to use the rest of this time to get as much information as we can. Harry, I've got to leave now. There is more to be done than I could ever have expected. Now that you've got an idea what you're looking at, go through it again, and take careful notes on what you find and what you understand. You'll be able to talk to Ron, Hermione and Ginny through the Floo Network, although no one can actually come through it."  
  
"Why not?" Harry asked angrily. He had been hoping that his friends would be able to come and visit.  
  
"Safety," Lupin said simply. "We simply can't take the risk. Sorry, Harry, McGonagall's orders."  
  
Harry started as Lupin said this. He was used to hearing the phrase 'Dumbledore's orders.' He supposed that McGonagall must have taken over the leadership of the Order as well as of Hogwarts. He nodded reluctantly, resolving that it was only three more weeks and that it was better than nothing.  
  
Lupin gave him another one-armed hug, and, magically charming the notes to copy themselves onto blank sheets of parchment, said, "You've got a long road ahead, Harry. Get as much rest as you can." When the notes had finished copying, he stowed them in another file much like the one Dumbledore had left for Harry.  
  
"Moony!" Harry said suddenly as a thought struck him. "Don't tell anyone else about this. Dumbledore didn't want anyone to know, or he would have told them himself, wouldn't he?"  
  
"I won't, Harry," Lupin promised seriously. "We'll keep this between us for now, and if I find it necessary to inform anyone else, we'll discuss it first."  
  
Harry nodded as Lupin finished packing the copied parchments into his file. He knew that if Lupin said he'd keep it quiet, he would, but Harry still couldn't help but feel a little as though he had done something wrong.  
  
"Keep an eye on yourself, Harry," Lupin said quietly as he prepared to leave. "There are Order members on duty around the clock, though you'll rarely see them. Just go out your front door and yell if anything's amiss, or contact one of us through the Floo."  
  
Harry nodded and, closing the door behind his guardian, sat back down at his desk.


	2. Everybody's Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny takes her O.W.L.s while Harry continues to study Dumbledore's papers. A day spent together offers some much-needed perspective and give Petunia some new things to think about, and the Dursleys may have to alter some of their opinions.

"Now, my dear, if you would kindly charm your spoon to dance across the table for me..."

Ginny flicked her wand easily and muttered the incantation almost inaudibly, not at all surprised when her spoon did exactly what she wanted it to do...springing up onto the tip of its bowl, it began dancing in a quick cadence across the wooden table in the Weasley's kitchen.

"Excellent, my dear," the ancient Professor Tofty said almost absently, making a note on his clipboard. "We must move quickly. I have many houses left to visit this week."

"What's next, then?" Ginny asked, mentally ticking off the exams the small, gray-haired professor had already given her...Divination, Potions, Herbology and Charms...Ginny sighed. Only four of her practicals were done...she still had seven left to take. What on earth had possessed her to sign up for _eleven_ OWL exams?

Over the past few days, she had been certain she would die at the number of written exams she'd had to take, and now that those had been scored, she was taking the practical part of each exam in front of one of the Ministry's official examiners...and all of this had been done at the Burrow, amid the usual chaos of the summer holidays. She felt that she would be lucky to obtain one OWL under these circumstances, much less eleven.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts, my dear," Professor Tofty replied, consulting his list.

"OK," Ginny replied. "Where?"

"Out of doors, dear," the examiner replied. "I've brought several items of interest with me, and I am interested in demonstrations of your shield charm and other defensive spells as well."

Ginny nodded, following him out of doors. This would be the easiest exam yet, for the topics to be tested had all been taught by Harry in the D.A. meetings over the previous two years.

As she thought of Harry, her insides twisted into a knot. She missed him so much that it hurt, and from his letters, he was getting more and more absorbed in whatever had been contained in that package Dumbledore had left for him. Even when Hagrid had died, Harry had barely stopped, writing to her in increasingly messy handwriting, as though he were in a hurry.

"Are you ready?" Professor Tofty inquired, snapping her out of her thoughts. She nodded and raised her wand, preparing to combat the boggart which emerged from a small chest positioned in the middle of the garden. She didn't even see as several garden gnomes ran in fright when the boggart transformed into a bloody and ravaged mimic of Harry Potter's dead body.

Professor Tofty gasped. Of all the boggarts he had seen in his years as an examiner, this was by far one of the most disturbing, and it was also problematic. When a person was unselfish enough that their greatest fear was the death of another, there were few ways to combat it - for how did you make a dead body funny?

Ginny Weasley seemed to be ready for this, however; she raised her wand, barely even flinching at the sight, and said, " _Riddikulus_!" in a clear and commanding voice.

The examiner gasped again as the body of Harry Potter became the body of Tom Riddle, who he had tested many years before, painted brightly with women's make-up and wearing tattered dress robes of bright pink. Ginny laughed at the sight, a hard laugh that did not seem to belong to a girl of only sixteen, and the Boggart vanished with a small wisp of smoke.

"Ver-very good, Miss Weasley," Tofty stuttered. "Sh-shall we move o-on, then?" He was having trouble hiding his disturbance, though given what this girl had been through, he supposed he should not have been surprised. He had heard stories about the battle waged by Harry Potter and his friends, and he knew from his connection to the Ministry and to the school that this girl had been right in the middle of it. Rumor had it she had actually been captured by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself, but had escaped. He could certainly not have expected her to have a spider or a mummy as the thing she most feared after experiencing something like _that_.

Nothing quite that troubling happened throughout the remainder of Ginny's examinations, though the examiner continued to be impressed with her quick thinking during all of her practicals. She was far from the most powerful witch or wizard he had ever examined, but there was a spark to her which made her unique.

It was well after midnight when they finished, for they had had to wait until then for Professor Tofty to conduct Ginny's Astronomy practical. The moment she had finished her star chart and handed it to him, he had gone down to the kitchen and asked for a few moments to tabulate her scores.

"Sure," Ginny said tiredly, leading him back down to the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was sitting up anxiously and sprang to her feet as soon as her daughter and the OWL examiner came into the room.

"Well?" she asked expectantly.

"Professor Tofty needs to tabulate the scores, Mum," Ginny explained wearily. "He wants to be alone."

"Of course," Mrs. Weasley said briskly. "Professor, would you like anything? A spot of tea, perhaps? Some biscuits?"

"Thank you, Molly," Tofty replied. "I could do with a cup of tea. It has been a long week."

Molly bustled around the kitchen for a moment, and soon a plateful of sugar cookies and a steaming teapot and cup had floated across the room and landed lightly in front of the examiner.

"Thank you, thank you," Tofty muttered. "Now, I'll just get these scores together."

Mrs. Weasley and Ginny took the cue and went quietly into the cramped lounge.

"So, dear," Mrs. Weasley asked when they had settled themselves on the sofa, "how did it go?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know, Mum. It was hard to take them all at once like that."

Molly heard something in her voice, and she suddenly turned to look her daughter in the eyes.

"Ginevra Weasley!" she exclaimed concernedly. "You look positively peaked! Are you sick?"

"No," Ginny replied. "I'm just tired."

"I don't think that's it," Molly said, putting a cool hand on Ginny's brow. "You aren't running a fever."

"Of course I'm not, Mum," Ginny said with a hint of impatience. "I told you, I'm not sick. I'm just tired. It's not like I've been resting all his time."

"I know, dear, I know," Molly replied, and she sighed heavily. "You're not a little girl anymore, Ginny, and you've had a rough time of it, haven't you?"

Ginny didn't answer, but she was struck heavily by a need for maternal comfort. She silently moved closer, leaning her head on Molly's shoulder, finding solace in the familiar scent of baking bread that seemed to be absorbed in every set of robes her mother owned.

"Oh, baby," Molly murmured, drawing Ginny into her tight embrace. "Mum's here."

Ginny didn't cry as her mother rocked slightly back and forth, murmuring under her breath the kind of maternal milksop that meant nothing but seemed to help everything. She allowed herself to be held, her nerves calming a bit for the first time since the battle at Hyde Park. They remained this way for some time, mother and daughter finding in one another equal measures of reassurance in their embrace.

They were interrupted by a squeaky, throat-clearing noise from the doorway, and they broke apart. Professor Tofty had appeared, a parchment envelope held in his large, wrinkly fingers. Molly immediately jumped up to take the envelope from him while Ginny remained rooted to her seat, suddenly nervous. What if she had failed everything, which seemed to be a distinct possibility?

"It's time for me to go on to my next assignment," Tofty said wearily. "If everything seems to be in order, I'll just go on my way, shall I?"

Mrs. Weasley looked up, her eyes gleaming. "Thank you," she said softly. "And good luck to you."

"You and yours as well, Molly," Tofty replied seriously. "No need to show me out; I know the way." He turned quickly and strode out the front door, heading to the visitor's Apparation point near the front of the garden.

"Mum?" Ginny asked after a few moments. _Surely it can't be that bad,_ she thought.

Mrs. Weasley had been standing on the spot, looking over Ginny's results. Her head snapped up at the sound of her daughter's voice, and she handed her the parchment, beaming silently.

Ginny's breath quickened as she read her results, written in Professor Tofty's untidy scrawl rather than the formal, loopy handwriting of the Ministry's secretaries.

_Dear Miss Weasley,_

_We are pleased to inform you of the results of your O.W.L. examinations taken in June at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please remember the scoring standard as you read your results:_

_O - Outstanding_

_E - Exceeds Expectations_

_A - Acceptable_

_P - Poor_

_D - Dreadful_

_Scores of O, E, and A constitute a pass on each exam._

_Scores for Ginevra Weasley, the Burrow, are as follows:_

_Transfiguration: E_

_Defense Against the Dark Arts:_ _E_

_Herbology: E_

_Care of Magical Creatures: O_

_Potions: E_

_Astronomy: A_

_Charms: O_

_Divination: A_

_History of Magic: P_

_Ancient Runes: A_

_Muggle Studies: E_

_Congratulations on your achievement of 10 OWLs, Miss Weasley, with an overall score of Exceeds Expectations._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor B. Tofty_

"Ginny!" Molly exclaimed when her daughter had had sufficient time to read the results. "10 OWLs! I'm so _proud_! Why, no one in the family has done so well since Percy!"

Ginny let herself be hugged, feeling slightly dazed with her success. What was that examiner on about? Despite herself, Ginny could not suppress a grin. Ten OWLs! That was so much better than she had ever thought she would do and for now, at least until NEWTs came around at the end of seventh year, her ambitions to be a Healer were safe.

At that moment, a 'pop' from the kitchen announced the arrival of Mr. Weasley from work. Molly sighed just slightly at the late hour; it seemed that her husband spent less and less time at home, and every minute he was gone, she worried about him. Her sigh was short-lived, however; she snapped the OWL results from her daughter's hands and rushed into the kitchen.

"Arthur!" she called, beaming. "You're finally home!"

"Molly, what - " Arthur began in a tone of slight concern.

"Just look at this!" Molly shoved the parchment towards him and went to fix him a plate of food.

Arthur scanned the contents of the parchment before he had even taken his traveling cloak off, knowing that for Molly to be this glowingly happy when she was usually so worried, it had to be something major. He began to smile slightly as he started reading, and by the time he was finished, the smile had stretched into a wide grin. In two steps, he crossed the kitchen and swept Ginny up in a hug.

"Excellent work," he said fondly, kissing the top of her head. He loved the affection he could still show to his daughter. After the boys reached a certain age, displays such as this were frowned upon, but Ginny - ah, Ginny he was still free to hug.

"Thanks, Dad," she said, hugging him back.

Molly levitated a steaming plate of chicken stew to the table and quickly enchanted two hot cross buns to fly across the room and join it. "Eat up, Arthur, you must be starving," she said briskly, though she was still grinning. "Ginny, do you want anything?"

"N - no thanks, Mum," Ginny said, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

"Then up to bed with you," Molly ordered, obviously not fooled. "And I want you to have a lie-in! I don't want to see you downstairs before lunch, am I clear?"

Ginny gaped at her. Though her mother had been known to allow them the occasional lie-in during the summer, she had never in Ginny's memory actually _ordered_ them to take one unless they were sick and had to stay in bed anyway.

"I mean it. Now, off with you!" Molly said, jabbing her finger at the door.

Still looking slightly bewildered, Ginny kissed her father on the cheek and gave Molly a quick hug before heading upstairs.

As soon as she reached her room, she took a spare bit of parchment and her favorite quill and sat down to write Harry a note before she slept. It had become rather a habit for her in the past week or so, and though she could rarely talk to him because his relatives were always nearby when they used the Floo Network, she found that writing him a quick letter before she went to bed made her feel somehow closer to him.

_Dear Harry_ , she wrote, fighting to keep her eyes open.

_It's after midnight and I just got finished with my OWL practicals. Professor Tofty gave me my results. I reckon they're doing it that way now to save time later since they have to go to everyone's house. Anyway, I got ten OWLs. Mum's crazy over it, of course. I'm just glad I can get into the classes I need to be a Healer._

_I hope everything is going well over there, Harry. It's nice to be able to talk to you in the Floo sometimes, but I really want to see you. I think I'm going to ask Mum_ _one more time_ _if I can_ _come_ _. Maybe if I stay on her, she'll let up._

_I love you so much, and you'd better be taking care of yourself!_

_Love,_

_Ginny_

After giving the note to her owl, Bono, for delivery, Ginny changed into her nightclothes and snuggled into her bed. Just before falling asleep, she resolved that she would once again try and get permission to visit Surrey.

* * *

Ginny did not awake the next morning until she felt Bono nudging her gently, a letter from Harry tied to his foot. She took the letter and watched as her owl soared back out the window, knowing he was going to hunt. She scanned the short note quickly, grinning wickedly as she folded it and placed it inside one of her school books to keep it private. Judging by the brightness of the sky outside and the warmth coming through her window, Ginny guessed that it was at least noon, so after showering and dressing quickly, she headed downstairs.

It turned out she was not the only one who had been allowed to sleep late; about halfway down the stairs, she met Ron, who was still yawning and rubbing his eyes, his trainers untied and his robes looking as though they had been thrown on in a hurry.

"Morning, Ron," Ginny said cheerfully, fully awake after her shower.

"Mor - Morning," Ron replied, yawning widely.

Ginny smiled. After reading Harry's note, she suddenly felt ten times more cheerful as she accompanied her brother down to the kitchen. Of course, it might also have helped that she had gotten no fewer then ten uninterrupted hours of sleep, which was at least twice the amount she had gotten each night over the previous two weeks.

"C'mon, you slowcoach," she said as they got closer. "Mum's got kippers in there; I can smell them."

"What time is it?" Ron asked in confusion. He, too, was reasonably certain that he had slept until lunchtime, but if his Mum was making breakfast, maybe it was earlier than he thought.

"It's 12:30," a bright voice informed him.

"Hermione!" Ron yelped, jumping slightly. "Why do you want to sneak up on a bloke like that?" Indeed, Hermione seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, standing slightly behind them near the entrance to the lounge, in which Mrs. Weasley had fashioned a bed for her.

"I wasn't sneaking, Ronald," Hermione said. "I was just answering your question, seeing as how I'm the only one around here who wears a wristwatch."

"Oh, erm...right..." Ron mumbled, giving his head a little shake as if to clear the rest of the sleep out of his mind.

"Your Mum was just about to come up and get you, anyway," Hermione continued. "She thought you'd want breakfast food, so she made some kippers along with everyone else's lunch."

"Everyone else's?" Ginny asked with interest. "Who else is here?" Generally, her father and Bill left the house very early in the morning and Percy and George stayed in the little flat above their shop, so by lunchtime the Hogwarts students and Mrs. Weasley were the only people in the house.

"Tonks and Lupin," Hermione replied.

"Is Harry OK?" Ginny asked, suddenly very worried, even given the note she had just received. She knew that things could change in a matter of minutes, even seconds.

"He's fine," Hermione said soothingly. "They just stopped by for a bit...I think they might have wanted some of Mrs. Weasley's cooking."

"Speaking of which," Ron broke in. "What are we all standing around here for? The food's in there." He pointed toward the kitchen door.

Hermione and Ginny both rolled their eyes. As they reached the kitchen door, Hermione suddenly turned to Ginny, causing Ron to knock into them both as they stopped short of going in.

"Ginny!" she exclaimed. "I can't believe I haven't said anything yet! Congratulations!"

Quite without warning, Ginny found herself buried in a cloud of bushy brown hair as her friend hugged her. It took her a moment to figure out what she was being congratulated for. "Oh!" she said when it came back to her. "Thanks!"

Ron watched the scene with a mixture of disgust and amusement on his face. "One of you want to tell me what you're on about so we can get to break- erm, lunch?"

"Ron, Ginny got 10 OWLs!" Hermione exclaimed after she had released Ginny from the hug.

Ron's jaw dropped. " _Ten_?" he said in disbelief.

Ginny giggled. "You don't have to act so stunned, Ronald," she said teasingly. "I've always been smarter than - "

"Me, I know," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "But _ten_! That's just...wow...well, at least I'm not last in the family...Fred and George only got..." His voice trailed off. Even now, months later, it was painful to most of them to mention Fred's name.

Hermione broke the silence by saying pointedly, "Aren't you forgetting something, Ron?"

He mentally shook himself. "Right," he said. "Lunch!" He made toward the door, but Hermione stood in his way.

"Honestly," she sighed. "You haven't even congratulated Ginny yet, or said good job, or anything!"

"Oh, erm, good job, Ginny," Ron said, flashing a grin at his sister. "That was really, erm, good, you know."

"Thanks, Ron," Ginny said with a small giggle. She knew her brother's mind was really on the delicious smells coming through the kitchen door. "OK, Hermione, I guess you can let him go now."

Hermione stepped aside and Ron nearly stumbled as he pushed the kitchen door open.

"Good morning," Lupin said brightly as Mrs. Weasley fussed with their meal. "Or, I suppose I should say, good afternoon!"

"Hiya, Ginny and Ron, about time you two joined the land of the living," Tonks added, wrinkling her face in a grimace of concentration before changing her hair to a violent shade of purple.

Ginny giggled and Molly turned to look at her, relieved to see that her daughter had regained some of her color and seemed to be much happier this morning. _A good rest was just what she needed_ , the motherly witch thought in satisfaction. Her daughter's laugh was music to her ears, but she suddenly wondered if something had happened besides getting enough rest. Ginny just looked so...well, almost giddy. Wisely, however, Molly decided not to question it.

When everyone was seated and conversing pleasantly as they ate, Ginny broke into the conversation. "Mum, I want to go to Privet Drive."

Molly sighed. This was not the first time Ginny had made this request, and as much as she hated to ruin the good mood of the morning, she had to say, "I'm sorry, Ginny, but it's out of the question; you know that. It's just not safe for anyone."

"Mum, I'm going, one way or another," she said boldly, a slight red tinge coming to her cheeks as she remembered what Harry had written to her.

Molly bristled. "You want to watch your tone, young lady," she said warningly. "I'll not have any sass about this. Harry will be here soon enough."

"Harry's not coming here," Lupin interjected.

As one, everyone but Tonks turned to look at him in surprise.

"What do you mean, he's not coming here?" Ron asked. "That was the plan, wasn't it?"

"I believe that Harry is going to be moving to Headquarters," Lupin said mildly. "However, that location is secure enough that you lot will be able to visit whenever you wish."

"Mum, I'm going to Surrey," Ginny repeated stubbornly. This news was all she needed to make her mind up even more firmly.

"Ginevra Weasley!" Molly exclaimed, her temper rankled even further by the fact that Harry was not, as originally planned, going to join them at the Burrow after his seventeenth birthday. "You'll spend the rest of the week in your room if you persist in talking back to me!"

"I'm not a baby, Mum!" Ginny said loudly, standing up. "I haven't seen Harry in three weeks, and he hasn't seen anyone but Lupin! I'm going, and that's final! You can either help me get there safely or I'll go on my own, but you won't stop me!"

Lupin watched the exchange, carefully calculating his next move. Molly's face was bright red, and he knew from experience that she was about to explode. Looking at Ginny, however, he saw that the teen was not about to back down, and for Ginny to attempt to travel all the way to Privet Drive unsupervised was an extremely bad idea.

"Molly," Lupin said calmly, "how about if I accompany Ginny to Surrey? We can use Side-Along Apparation, and that will get both of us there safely. We've set up an Apparation Point in Mrs. Figg's back garden. It would do Harry some good to see Ginny," he added gently, knowing that by pointing out Harry's stake in the matter he was more likely to convince her to let her daughter go. Arabella Figg had deeded her home to the Order, and though it was not secure enough to be used as any kind of headquarters, they had placed enough enchantments on it that it was a safe enough place by which to enter and leave the Little Whinging neighborhood.

Molly was clearly still furious at Ginny's cheek, but some of the color left her face as she considered the idea.

"You ought to let her go, Mum," Ron said quietly. "Harry's going to lose himself in whatever he's trying to do if he doesn't have some kind of a break."

"What do you mean, 'whatever he's trying to do'?" Molly asked, looking shrewdly at her son. Everyone had known since Hagrid's death that Harry had been engrossed in something that he obviously thought was quite important, but as far as they knew, he had told no one of his plans.

"I don't really know," Ron answered, taking a bite of kipper and chewing thoughtfully. He answered with his mouth still full, "Reckon he's found a way to beat You-Know-Who?"

"Swallow your food before you speak, Ronald," Mrs. Weasley responded crossly. She knew that Harry felt it was his lot to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and the prophecy certainly backed that up, but she honestly didn't like the thought of Harry sitting alone at his aunt and uncle's house, straining himself with a responsibility no one his age should have to bear.

Ron grinned slightly across the table at Ginny and Hermione. All three of them could see the conflict on her face, and they knew that Ron had said the magic words.

After a few moments in which no one spoke, Molly relented. "Fine, Ginny," she said, her tone softening considerably as she looked into her daughter's hopeful eyes. "You may go as long as Remus accompanies you, but this will be the only time, understood?"

Ginny nodded, beaming. She glad she wouldn't have to live up to her defiant words of a few moments before; though she was known for being bold, she did not like to invoke her mother's wrath any more than the rest of her siblings did.

"Unfortunately," Lupin said, "I'm not going to be able to take you until Saturday, Ginny."

Ginny excitement waned a bit. Saturday was almost a week away! "Why not?" she asked.

"I've got an appointment I just can't miss," Lupin replied mysteriously, "and the full moon is coming. We'll go after that, ok? It's only a few days, and in the meantime, why don't you use the floo to tell Harry you're coming? I know it will brighten his week considerably."

"Tonks?" Ginny asked hopefully.

"I can't, kiddo," Tonks said with some regret. "I'm not slated to be on Privet Drive until Sunday, and I've got other duties before then."

"Mum?"

"No," Mrs. Weasley replied shortly. Though she had been convinced by the others that seeing Ginny would do Harry a world of good, she could not help still being irritated over Ginny's earlier defiance.

Ginny sighed. She supposed that it wouldn't have been much fun to go to Privet Drive with her mother, anyway. While Tonks and Lupin had become practiced over the past year of looking the other way and giving her and Harry some privacy, she knew her mother would not be likely to leave them alone for long.

"Saturday, then?" she said, looking back at Lupin.

"Saturday," Lupin replied with a slight smile and a wink, as if he had guessed exactly what had gone through Ginny's head when she thought about taking her mother with her to visit Harry.

"Harry's birthday is only nine days from now," Hermione observed. "If he's moving to Headquarters, can't we arrange to have a little party there for him, just us, like we did last year?"

Even Mrs. Weasley brightened at this suggestion, always alert for opportunities to make Harry feel like part of the family and to give him back some of what he had missed during his childhood with the Dursleys. Everyone finished eating as they discussed presents and food, and as soon as Tonks and Lupin had left, Hermione and Ron had gone for a walk, and Mrs. Weasley was busy upstairs, Ginny headed to the fireplace, threw some powder in, and stuck her head directly into the green flames.

* * *

"So the school's going to open again?" Harry asked Hermione and Ron, who were jostling for space in the small fire in Aunt Petunia's immaculate lounge.

"We just heard this morning," Hermione confirmed. "They're reopening the school, but the security is supposed to be unparalleled. Anyone who is not a student or a professor will have a very hard time getting in, even by the secret passageways."

Harry's heart sank a bit at this news, for he realized even if the other two didn't that he was unlikely to be a student there again. Would he be able to come and visit his friends, at least? He couldn't imagine McGonagall closing the school to him, but still...

"What's wrong, mate?" Ron asked, noting the look on Harry's face.

Harry decided that the time had come to tell them at least a little about what he had found out. "Do you remember second year - " he began, but he was interrupted.

"Potter!" Aunt Petunia snapped indignantly. "Look what the smoke from that...that... _fire_ is doing to my mantle!" She said "fire" as though it was a nasty swear-word, and Harry knew it was not because of the fire itself, but because of the method in which he was using it.

He glanced up at the top of the fireplace. There, barely perceptible, was a hint of the black smoke-stain that was commonplace in every grate, Wizarding or Muggle. No one but Aunt Petunia would even have noticed it. He sighed.

"I'll tell you later," he said to Ron and Hermione, who both looked extremely disgruntled at having been interrupted yet again by Harry's aunt, especially now, when it seemed that Harry had been about to tell them something extremely important.

"Come on, Harry, just tell us quickly," Hermione said anxiously. She didn't like the look on Harry's face. _Whatever he's working on must be even more serious than we realized_ , she thought with some alarm.

"I can't," Harry replied heavily, knowing that his aunt was going to come in and start ranting at him if he didn't extinguish the fire. _Honestly_ , he reflected, _this is more trouble than it's worth._ He never got more than a couple minutes of conversation with anyone but Lupin, and that was only because he could communicate with him via the amulet. He had enjoyed his nightly notes from Ginny, but they couldn't really say anything important in them, seeing as how owls were being intercepted with alarming frequency and Hedwig was easily recognizable by anyone who had seen her with Harry.

"Harry, mate, who cares what they say?" Ron asked, glaring darkly toward the entrance of the room.

"I've got to keep the peace around here," Harry replied. "It's the only way this is going to last another week."

"So leave early," Ron prodded.

"Ron, Harry's got a point," Hermione said.

"Potter!" Aunt Petunia snapped.

"OK, Aunt Petunia," Harry sighed. "I'll talk to you both soon."

Ron and Hermione both shot him sympathetic looks before their heads disappeared from the fire. Harry put it out after they were gone, wishing that he could use magic to do so, and then, for good measure, scrubbed at the black mark on the bricks above the grate.

The truth was, Harry didn't want the blood protection to end early, as much as he would have loved to leave Privet Drive forever. He knew that if he left before his birthday, it would break the magical contract forged between Professor Dumbledore and Aunt Petunia and that the Order would be unable to provide the family complete protection. He didn't completely understand it, but Lupin had assured him that it was true.

Harry could not shake the memory of Aunt Petunia's face the summer before his fifth year when he had told them that Voldemort had returned and the realization that had struck him at the time: she was his mother's sister. He could also not forget the frequent looks of fear and sadness that he had glimpsed the summer before his sixth year. No matter how horrible his life with the Dursleys had been, he could just not bring himself to turn his back on the only blood relative he had left.

After he had finished removing all traces of his use of the fireplace, Harry went back upstairs to his room, intent upon reading a chapter of one of the books Lupin had sent: _Magic At Its Darkest_. So far, he had not seen any direct references to horcruxes; however, there had been several oblique remarks made about soul-splitting and its relationship with murder, and Harry hoped to glean some more knowledge from those.

From Dumbledore's packet, he had worked out that the silver ring Dumbledore had destroyed was one of the Horcruxes, and that it had been owned by a man named Marvolo Gaunt, who Harry could only guess had been somehow related to the boy who had been named Tom Marvolo Riddle. This realization was incredibly alarming, as it had been the destruction of the horcrux which had caused his mentor's downfall. If Dumbledore himself had had to pay the ultimate price to destroy just the one, how was he, Harry, supposed to destroy the remaining four?

Harry had worked out that Voldemort had, incredibly, split his soul into seven separate pieces, one of which now inhabited the body he had regained in the graveyard at the end of Harry's fourth year. The ring had been one, and, Harry had realized some time before, the diary he had destroyed in his second year had been one as well.

As these thoughts sped through his mind, Harry was suddenly hit with the weight of the evil he pursued and he had to lean on his bedpost for support until the dizzying feeling of helplessness left him.

_The ring_ , he thought again with a sense of desperation, _was meant to work the way it did. It was meant to weaken or kill the person who attempted to destroy it. Dumbledore knew it, too, yet he did it anyway._

If it was even possible, the idea of a piece of Voldemort's soul having inhabited the diary hit him even harder. _It possessed Ginny; it almost killed her. That piece of Voldemort's soul, just that one piece which had been trapped in a book for over fifty years, had the power to restore him to a body_ _and to end the life of someone who was not even trying to destroy it_ _._

Harry shivered, suddenly feeling very cold and more alone than he had ever been. How could he ever contend with evil as powerful as this? How did he have a hope in the world? As he thought about the ring and about the diary, he realized for the first time what he was truly facing.

* * *

The morning of Ginny's visit dawned clear and warm, and Harry awoke with the first sense of cheerfulness he had felt for most of the preceding week. He couldn't wait to see her. Weighed down with his aunt's constant protests, he had finally stopped using the Floo Network altogether, resolving that it was still connected in case of an emergency.

As he showered and donned the least-raggedy Muggle clothing he owned, Harry checked his watch every few moments in hope that time had suddenly sped faster toward the desired nine o'clock rendezvous in the play park.

When the hands finally, _finally_ reached five 'till nine, Harry grinned as he stowed his Invisibility Cloak in one of his jean pockets and his wand in the other. Aside from preferring to have both on hand whenever he left the house, he was rather hoping to find a different use for the cloak today.

Lupin and Ginny came from the direction of Mrs. Figg's old house at precisely nine o'clock, looking as inconspicuous as a father and daughter out for a weekend stroll. When Ginny saw Harry, however, she broke into a run, her red hair streaming behind her until she threw herself into his arms.

"I've missed you so much," Harry whispered as he held her tight, conscious that there were several Muggles in the park even this early, perhaps having come before the afternoon heat became too oppressive. Harry didn't care about them, however, or about the fact that he was sure Lupin was carefully looking the other way as he bent his head and kissed her.

Ginny broke it off, giggling, "Harry, really...we're right out in the middle of all these people!"

Harry looked around. While Lupin was pretending to examine a particularly interesting leaf on one of the park's many trees, several of the Muggles were staring openly at Harry and Ginny, a fact that she did not fail to notice.

"Harry," she whispered, "they act like they've never seen a couple before...why are they staring like that?"

Indeed, this seemed to be more than idle curiosity, and Harry took a moment to think before he answered her. "It's because of me," he told her, laughing a little. "Everyone in this neighborhood thinks I'm some kind of hardened criminal, so I think they're surprised to see that I have such a pretty girlfriend."

"They think you're a _what_?" Ginny asked, bristling.

"A criminal," Harry confirmed. "Uncle Vernon tells everyone that I go to St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys."

"How _dare_ he?" Ginny hissed angrily. "Doesn't he know what you've done, who you are? How could he call you a criminal, when you - "

"He wouldn't care if he did," Harry told her. "Look, it doesn't bother me, it really doesn't, so let's just get on with our day, OK?"

Ginny took a moment to consider, a curious set of expressions flitting across her face; Harry could almost see Uncle Vernon's face being attacked by her famous flying bogeys. Finally, though, she nodded.

"Let's walk," Harry proposed, offering her his arm in a way he had seen done in the soap operas his aunt sometimes watched when no one else was home.

She giggled and accepted, and they walked and chatted until lunchtime. Harry showed her the alley where he had first seen Sirius and where the dementors had attacked two summers previously, introduced her to some of Mrs. Figg's cats who still hung around her house even though she had been gone for months, and walked her past the Muggle primary school he had attended, pointing out the kitchen roof he had ended up on top of when he was a child.

Ginny found all of this much more fascinating than Harry did and she asked incessant questions about his childhood and his life before Hogwarts. At noon, however, she stopped. They were on the corner of Privet Drive, not far from Number Four, and she suddenly looked serious as she asked him, "Are you going to show me your house?"

Harry had purposefully avoided that very thing, knowing that Aunt Petunia and Dudley were unlikely to be friendly to Ginny, no matter how charming she looked in her Muggle jeans and old U2 t-shirt. "Erm," he said. "I thought we'd have lunch first; there's a place less than a mile from here that has really good fish and chips."

"OK, Harry," Ginny relented, "but after that, I want to see where you've been living."

Harry nodded and then motioned to Lupin, who was strolling a little ways behind them. He wasn't trying to remain hidden, but he did want to give the teens some sense of privacy.

"Moony," Harry asked, "did you have a chance to get some Muggle money exchanged for me?"

Lupin grinned. "Taking your girl on a date, eh?" he teased, reaching into the pocket of his faded tweed trousers. He handed Harry two twenty-pound notes. "Will this be enough?"

"More than," Harry agreed, laughing a little at his guardian's complete lack of understanding of Muggle money. "We're just getting fish and chips. Why don't you join us?"

Lupin couldn't help but look pleased at the invitation, and the three of them enjoyed their lunch, eaten traditionally out of coned newsprint, in the warm sunshine.

"So, Harry," Lupin asked conversationally as they were finishing, "what do you want for your birthday?"

"Nothing," Harry replied. "I just want to get out of here."

Lupin nodded and didn't press the subject. Harry's birthday was only four days away and his guardian already had a good idea of what he was going to do, anyway.

"Let's go to your house, Harry," Ginny said as they began walking again, this time with Lupin rather than in front of him. She was only allowed to stay until three o'clock, and she was not going to leave Little Whinging until she saw for herself where Harry was living and what his relatives were like.

Harry sighed. "OK," he said resignedly. "It's not much, and my aunt and cousin are there."

Ginny bristled next to him as she prepared herself to finally meet the infamous Dursleys.

"You two are completely safe inside the house," Lupin told them. "In the interest of keeping the peace, I think I'll wait out here."

"Ready, love?" Ginny asked as they approached the immaculate garden of Number Four.

Harry was immensely relieved to see that their arrival at the house seemed to have gone unheeded by either Aunt Petunia, who was probably in the kitchen, happily ignoring him, or Dudley, who was watching television in the lounge.

"My room's upstairs," he said hurriedly, trying to usher her out of the danger zone as quickly as she could.

"Was this your cupboard?" Ginny asked quietly, indicating the door on the side of the stairwell.

"Yeah," Harry answered. "But I haven't lived there in ages; they just use it for the sweeper and things like that now."

"It's so...small," Ginny whispered, opening the door and peeking in. "And dark. Oh, Harry, how horrid!"

Harry shrugged, eager to get away from the cupboard and go upstairs where he at least wouldn't have to worry about attracting his relatives' attention.

Unbeknownst to Harry and Ginny, however, Dudley was now observing them silently through the slightly-opened door to the lounge and Aunt Petunia chose that moment to emerge from the kitchen. She took one look at Ginny, who still had her head inside the cupboard door, and Harry, who was looking quite awkward indeed, and said icily, "And just who is this, and what right does she have to poke around in my home, Potter?"

"Ginevra Weasley," Ginny said as she pulled her head out of the cupboard, her tone easily matching Aunt Petunia's in coldness. "And I was just interested in seeing Harry's old bedroom."

If this remark made Aunt Petunia uncomfortable, she didn't show it. She simply stared at Ginny as though they were in a contest to see who would look away first.

Ginny won, her dark-eyed gaze far outlasting Petunia's gray-eyed one. When Harry's aunt had finally turned away, Ginny whispered, "How could you?"

Harry turned to her, startled to hear the all-to-familiar note in her voice that said she was about to cry. He had expected, possibly, that she would be angry and fly into a temper, but he had not expected this.

"He was just a baby," Ginny continued, that heartbreaking note still in her voice. "Just a child. He depended on you. How could you?"

Aunt Petunia didn't look as though she knew what to say to this, but neither did she retreat.

"Standing right in front of you," Ginny continued, her voice growing stronger, "is one of the greatest men who has ever lived. And you know what the sad thing is? He doesn't even know it. You poisoned him against himself, made him doubt his own strength. Your day of reckoning _will_ come, and you had better hope to God that Harry's there when it does, because he will be the only person in this world who can or will save you."

Petunia was visibly shaken by this last pronouncement and she looked as though she was about to say something when Ginny abruptly turned to Harry. "Let's go see your room. I want to say 'hi' to Hedwig," she said as though nothing of import had just happened.

"Erm...OK," Harry said. He turned away from his aunt and led Ginny up the stairs to the bedroom he had occupied since he was barely eleven years old.

Ginny didn't seem much more impressed with the small room than she had with the cupboard under the stairs. She looked around at Dudley's old, smashed toys on the shelf, the scratched and scarred desk and the bed with its thin, cast-away blankets and sighed.

"Hey," Harry said gently, leading her to the bed. "Don't let this spoil our day, OK?" He tugged her down beside him and gathered her into his arms.

"I know, Harry," Ginny said quietly. "I'm sorry. I promised myself I wouldn't do this...it's just, well...we've always been poor, but from what I've seen, we had a lot of advantages you didn't, and we always had love...it just makes me sad to think about the way you lived before you found your place in our world."

"I found Ron, and Hermione...and you..." Harry murmured. "And I could never have hoped for anything better." With a slight smile, he suddenly thought of something that would take Ginny's mind off his life with the Dursleys. He unwrapped one of his arms from around her waist and grabbed the Invisibility Cloak from his pocket, shaking out its silvery folds while Ginny giggled.

"I knew this would come in handy," Harry said as he covered them both with it and motioned for Ginny to lie beside him on the bed, ready to fulfill the promise he had made to her in his note from almost a week before.

Nearly two hours later, Ginny hopped down the stairs with Harry close on her heels, ready to walk her back to Mrs. Figg's house so she could Apparate with Lupin back to the Burrow.

"So long, Petunia!" she called in a cheery voice, waving merrily at the astonished woman as the door closed behind her.

* * *

The _Evening Prophet_ was waiting for Harry when he came upstairs to his room from yet another silent dinner with the Dursleys two days after his day with Ginny. He hadn't been expecting a newspaper; generally, the evening edition was only printed when something of enormous importance had happened.

It didn't take very long for Harry to learn what it was, as the headline on the paper was printed in type so large that it could be read from across the room.

**NEW MINISTER OF MAGIC:**

**SCRIMGEOUR ADMINISTRATION PROMISES 'PEACE AT ANY COST'**

Below the headline was a picture of a man wearing the navy blue robes of an Auror and gazing sternly out from behind an impressive mahogany desk. The article went on to explain that the new Minister had formerly been the head of the Auror office, and that the new administration would be taking a hard-line position on eliminating any and all threats from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters.

"It is time for the wizarding world to stop living in fear," he was quoted as saying. "In contrast to previous administrations, my office is committed to using any and all means necessary to eliminate this threat permanently."

_Any and all means_? Harry thought suspiciously. _That sounds an awful lot like Barty Crouch, Sr.'s stand on the first war._ Anger boiled under his skin at the memory of the man who had imprisoned his godfather without so much as a hearing. If this Minister was going to show signs of behaving like Bartemius Crouch, Harry knew that he would be offered little to no help in his quest, not that he had expected the Ministry to do so in the first place. The ironic thing was that, given what Rufus Scrimgeour was reported to have said, most of the wizarding world would stand behind his actions and those of his administration even if those actions were almost as heinous as those of the Dark Lord himself.

In disgust, Harry tossed the newspaper aside. Too agitated to study, he paced the room several times before casting himself onto the bed.

It was a long time before Harry Potter finally fell into an uneasy asleep.

* * *

The next morning found Harry struggling to maintain his patience as Uncle Vernon accused him of having something to do with the yowling of a particularly obnoxious tomcat that had kept him up most of the night.

"It had something to do with _your lot_ , I know it," Vernon proclaimed, his face red as he glared at Harry from across the table.

"I keep telling you, I had nothing to do with it. I was asleep! I didn't even hear it!"

"Like I'd believe one word that came out of your mouth," Vernon snarled. "Talking with weirdoes through my fire, bringing that red-headed hussy - " he broke off when Harry pushed back from the table and stood, his face contorted with rage and his wand drawn.

"I thought she was nice," Dudley said suddenly, looking up from his grapefruit.

Silence descended. Even Harry's anger at Vernon diminished slightly in light of this startling comment. Vernon, Petunia and Harry stared at Dudley in open-mouthed surprise.

"I mean," Dudley muttered, suddenly seeming ashamed of what he had said, "she seemed...ok...I mean, ok for one of you _freaks_."

No one at the table was convinced that Dudley had thought of Ginny Weasley as any kind of freak. Several moments of tense silence followed in which everyone played with their grapefruit slices.

"You've been nothing but a problem since you came here," Vernon growled in an attempt to refocus the table on the issue at hand.

Harry responded coldly. "In exactly," he checked his watch, "fifteen hours and forty-seven minutes, I will no longer be your 'problem', Uncle Vernon." After saying this, he left the table abruptly and headed back up to his room to pack.

When he opened his trunk, he was a little surprised to find the amulet he shared with Lupin glowing blue, the signal that his guardian wanted to talk to him. He picked it up, knowing he would be glad for a friendly voice.

" _Hi, Moony,_ " he thought, focusing his mind on the man sitting at the table in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

" _Hiya, Harry,_ " Lupin responded warmly. " _Everything all packed_?"

_"Not yet,_ " Harry answered irritably.

" _You seem a little flustered, kid,"_ Lupin pointed out. " _Want to tell me what happened?"_

_"It was nothing, really,"_ Harry said, now wishing he had never picked up the amulet. " _My uncle and I had a little bit of a row over some stupid tomcat in the alleyway. It's over now, and I'm just waiting."_

_"Right,"_ Lupin said, deciding that he really didn't need to know the exact details of the argument. Harry was still at Privet Drive; that was what counted, and he only had another day left. _"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. As far as I can figure, the blood protection lasts until you are truly seventeen; that is, to the very moment at which you were born."_

_"When was I born?_ " Harry asked with interest. He knew his birthday, of course, but he had no idea exactly what time he had been born...why had he never asked?

_"You were born at 6:14 pm on July 31,"_ Lupin replied, smiling a bit as he recalled James's face when Harry had finally arrived.

_"So the blood protection will last until 6:14 tomorrow_ _night_ _?"_ Harry asked.

_"Yes, unless something happens that breaks it before then. Just in case, we're planning on traveling to Headquarters midmorning or so, if that is_ _OK_ _with you. Since it is technically your birthday, it will not break the contract, and I don't want you_ _on Privet Drive_ _when the blood protection_ _is voided_ _."_

_"What about the Dursleys?"_ Harry asked a trifle flatly. He had not just endured an entire month with them so that they could be killed the moment he left.

_"The Order will be able_ _protect them with some enchantments that Dumbledore set up only to work upon the completion of your aunt's commitment._ "

Once again, Harry marveled at Dumbledore's ingenuity. Had he foreseen how resistant the Dursleys would be to keeping him, or had he simply been trying to plan for every contingency?

_"So, midmorning tomorrow, Harry?"_ Lupin asked, greatly looking forward to having some company at the lonely old mansion.

_"Midmorning tomorrow,"_ Harry confirmed, lobbing a pair of socks into his open trunk as he communicated telepathically with Lupin.

_"_ _One_ _day more, Harry. Just think about that!"_ Lupin found it hard to keep the jubilation from his voice at the thought that Harry would never have to go back to those people again.

They disconnected a few minutes later, and Harry spent most of the day packing his things and making sure his notes and his studies were in order and ready to be resumed immediately upon his arrival at Grimmauld Place.

_I wonder if they're going to have a party for me,_ Harry thought with a grin as he collapsed his telescope and placed it in his trunk. If he knew Mrs. Weasley and his friends, not to mention his girlfriend, he could look forward to a pleasant evening upon his arrival at Headquarters.

* * *

Harry was so engrossed in his work that he did not notice the clock change to midnight, exactly fifteen hours and forty-six minutes after he had left the kitchen that morning. Nothing seemed amiss in the quiet town of Little Whinging...nothing, that is, until the clock clicked to 12:01 and Harry Potter ceased to be Vernon Dursley's problem anymore.

" _Morsmordre!_ "

The voice was loud enough to wake the three Dursleys and cause Harry to spill his inkpot as he sprang to his feet.

Vernon Dursley suddenly had a much bigger problem.


	3. Bad Blood Will Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two-thirds of the Dursley family are eliminated in one short attack on Privet Drive...can the last member of the family live without the others? Arthur Weasley is hit by an unknown curse, and Harry learns something he'd never known before...why did the Order, and Lupin especially, keep it a secret from him?

**11:50 P.M., July 30, 1998**

"Stop fidgeting, Goyle," Lucius Malfoy snapped under his breath. "We are under orders not to be discovered, and there are blood-traitors on the watch." He waved in the direction in which they knew Number Four, Privet Drive was located, though they were unable to see the house itself.

Goyle grunted and tried to adjust his considerable weight into a more comfortable crouching position. They had been on watch in Little Whinging for almost five hours now, Malfoy having wanted to be in place well before there was any possibility of the blood protection being voided. After their failure in London the previous month, they could take no chances. Their orders were clear: kill the two male Dursleys and capture the female as well as Harry Potter himself.

"Goyle!" Malfoy snapped once again. "We cannot risk detection. The Dark Lord will be most displeased if we fail, and rest assured that I will inform him exactly where the blame is to be put if we are discovered before completing our mission."

Goyle was growing tired of Malfoy's orders. Though Lucius was still the topmost member in the Dark Lord's inner circle, everyone in the ranks of the Death Eaters was aware that he was quickly falling out of favor.

"We wouldn't even be in this situation if it wasn't for your traitor of a wife and your sniveling son," he whispered. "At least he got what he deserved, though she ran like a coward into the arms of the Order."

"Narcissa will be found," Malfoy replied smoothly, "and I daresay she will go the same way as Draco when she is. My suspicion is that she has taken refuge at Hogwarts; it's the only way she could have betrayed our plan without being detected." Not one hint of emotion was betrayed in his voice as he talked about the death of his son and the impending death of his wife.

Even Goyle was stunned into silence by his coldness. How could any man speak of his wife and his son as though they were simply pawns? Though his loyalty as well as the loyalties of his family members to the Dark Lord could not be questioned, Goyle knew he would never be able to suffer the loss of his own son with such detachedness, and he hoped that Gregory would at least finish his education before he joined the ranks of Voldemort's followers.

* * *

**11:59 P.M., July 30, 1998**

"Dung, for the last time, I've little interest in hearing about your thieving exploits," Arthur Weasley said with a tone of half exasperation and half amusement.

Mundungus Fletcher snorted loudly, ignoring Arthur's shushing noises. "I'snot like they don' know we're here," he protested in a loud whisper.

"All the same," Arthur replied, adjusting the Invisibility Cloak once more and keeping his gaze on Number Four, Privet Drive, "I'd rather not advertise our location, would you?"

Mundungus looked around warily. He had not wanted this assignment on the very night in which Harry Potter came of age, and had only taken it when Remus Lupin had assured him that the blood protection would not end until 6:14 that evening.

"It's spelled out right here, Dung," Remus had explained earlier that day, showing him the magical contract which had been found in Dumbledore's papers following his death. "The blood protection is in effect until the moment of Harry's seventeenth birthday; that is to say, the moment he was born. We will be picking Harry up hours before his protection ends."

"Why don't we take him at midnight, then?" Mundungus had protested. "The bloody contract won't be broken and we won't have to worry about nothing."

"Harry is required to be present in the house when the enchantments for the Dursley's protection are set."

"Bloody Dumbledore," Mundungus had muttered, ignoring the shocked and angry looks on the faces of the rest of the Order of the Phoenix.

"You will be present with Arthur Weasley on July 30," McGonagall had instructed coldly, fixing him with a glare that would have put panic into the heart of any Hogwarts student. That had been the end of the conversation.

"Don't worry, Dung," Arthur said, interrupting the silence. "There are other Order members on standby in case anything goes amiss. Tonks, Lupin, Bill, Moody and Shacklebolt are all at Mrs. Figg's house."

"Why ain't they here, then?" Mundungus muttered irritably.

"We did not want to attract undue attention to ourselves," Arthur answered a bit testily, "and there aren't enough cloaks to cover us all."

As the time changed to midnight, Mundungus and Arthur both looked up at Harry's room, relieved that nothing seemed to have happened. "He's still awake," Mundungus muttered, noting the lamplight coming from Harry's desk, where he was undoubtedly still at work on whatever he had been so engrossed in for the past month. "I still don't see why we can't take him now."

"The plans are in place for a rea - " Arthur snapped, but was interrupted as the thing they had been most dreading came into startling reality before them. As Arthur charged toward house, Mundungus Disapparated with a loud "pop."

* * *

**12:01 A.M., July 31, 1998**

Lucius Malfoy stood abruptly as a house identical to those on either side of it shimmered into view. "It is time," he said, ignoring Goyle as he walked boldly across the street, his mask in place and his robes billowing around him.

* * *

Arthur jumped to his feet as he saw the Death Eater striding out of the garden of the house across the street from Number Four, letting the Invisibility Cloak fall around his ankles as he shot the Order's signal towards Wisteria Walk. As he did so, the other side also employed their own means of communication.

" _Morsmordre_!" a loud voice called, and the Dark Mark erupted over Number Four, Privet Drive. For whatever reason, the blood protection had already ended. Within moments, the usually quiet Privet Drive was swarming with Death Eaters and Order members.

* * *

Harry didn't even notice the ink dripping over his papers and off the edge of his desk as he held his wand at the ready and charged towards his bedroom door, already hearing the unmistakable sounds of the battle taking place in the garden and on the street as well as the shouts of alarm from his aunt and uncle.

When he reached the stairs, however, he found himself unable to go down.

"Uncle Vernon, get out of it!" Harry shouted, trying to dodge around his uncle's considerable bulk, which the large man was using to his advantage as he tried to prevent Harry from joining the battle.

"You did this, Potter!" Vernon yelled insanely. "You and your freaky friends planned this, just like you threatened me and that hussy threatened my wife!"

"Get out of the way or I'll hex you," Harry bellowed, seeing the front door spring open magically and three masked Death Eaters come into the house. He held his wand on Vernon as he continued to try to find a way to get around him without hurting him.

Uncle Vernon turned, ready to shout at whoever had the audacity to enter his home uninvited at such an hour. He barely had time to register what he was seeing as the masked Death Eater closest to the stairs raised his wand.

"No!" Harry cried. " _Expelliarmus!_ " he called desperately, trying to point his wand past Uncle Vernon and using his wand-free hand to bring up his translucent gold shield.

The spell never made it to his opponent; it simply bounced off of Vernon's bulk, causing nothing but a slight jolt of a magical energy to go through its mark.

Vernon's eyes snapped back to Harry as he felt the jolt. "Pott -" he began to bellow, now certain that his nephew was trying to use magic to destroy his family. He never got to finish his accusation.

" _Avada Kedavra_!" the Death Eater snarled, hatred dripping through his voice. The spell hit its mark, and Vernon Dursley's body tumbled down the stairs and landed at the Death Eater's feet. Harry froze as this happened; he knew that voice and had learned to hate the sound of it over the past six years. Severus Snape had just murdered his uncle.

Harry did not have time to ponder this as he began shooting spells as he was coming down the stairs, trying to disarm or disable the Death Eaters swarming through his home. He heard the back door open and was relieved when the sounds of the voices of Order members drifted in through the fray.

He heard a scream behind him. Aunt Petunia, clothed in her flowered nightdress, was standing at the top of the stairs staring at her husband's body, her mouth wide open in a shriek of terror and grief as she took in the scene.

"Aunt Petunia!" Harry yelled. "Get out of it! Hide!"

She seemed to be unable to hear him, and he backtracked up the stairs towards her, shooting hexes as quickly as he could get them off. Just as he reached her, he was satisfied when one of the spells hit its mark and its target fell to the ground, petrified.

Just then, the door to the lounge opened and a sleepy and confused Dudley emerged, still rubbing his eyes. He was still clothed in his jeans and t-shirt; apparently, he had fallen asleep watching his favorite late-night shows.

"Dudley!" Petunia screamed from behind Harry. Immediately, she began pushing at Harry's back, desperately trying to get to her son.

"No, Aunt Petunia!" Harry yelled, fighting her back and struggling to keep her behind him and his shield. "Look, the Order is coming! They'll get him!"

Two Death Eaters were advancing up the stairs, their spells destroying walls and knickknacks as they bounced off Harry's shield, which he was having difficulty holding up while defending himself and trying to keep Aunt Petunia from charging down the stairs towards Dudley.

" _Stupefy_!" Arthur Weasley yelled as he entered the fray from the kitchen. His spell hit its mark, but he was caught unawares as a Death Eater apparated behind him and a jet of purple light hit him in the head.

"Mr. Weasley!" Harry called involuntarily, his heart stopping in his chest. He saw Lupin, who had finally disarmed and incapacitated his opponent, shooting spells seemingly at random as he tried to get from the kitchen to the lounge doors where Dudley stood, frozen in fear.

"Harry, you've got to get out of here! Apparate with her!" Lupin shouted from below, keeping two Death Eaters engaged and their attention off Harry's cousin.

Harry wasn't sure how he was going to force Aunt Petunia to Apparate with him while still maintaining his shield against the Death Eaters who were still stalking him.

" _Tarantellegra_!" he cried, and one of the Death Eaters fell backward down the stairs, his legs twitching frantically in an involuntary dance.

" _Stupefy_!" Lupin said, breaking his concentration in the other duel momentarily to stun Harry's fallen opponent.

"Dudley!" Aunt Petunia screamed again.

"Aunt Petunia, no! The Order will get Dudley! We have to get out of here!" Harry struggled to hold her back as more spells bounced off his shield and hit the walls and the banister.

Lupin's moment of distraction was all his opponent needed. _"Avada Kedavra_!" cried the voice of Lucius Malfoy triumphantly, and the green jet of light hit Dudley in the throat.

"Nooooo!" Aunt Petunia screamed, and her body went slack against the wall where Harry had her pinned with his own.

"Harry, get her out of here!" Lupin cried, taking in the scene with growing alarm. Each of the Order members present were fighting no fewer than two Death Eaters, and Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt were each dueling three in the front garden. The Order was vastly outnumbered. "Harry, go!"

Harry knew from the way that the Death Eater in front of him had begun to stalk him on the side that he was going to try to get to Aunt Petunia; to kill or capture her, Harry didn't know.

"Aunt Petunia, grab onto me!" Harry called. "Hold on! We've got to go!"

Petunia Dursley made no response, her eyes wide and staring into Harry's back unseeingly.

"Get out of here, Harry!" Bill Weasley called, coming up the stairs to get the Death Eater away from his quarry. "Apparate! Now!"

As the Death Eater turned to face Bill, Harry dropped his shield charm and spun to grab Petunia before she slumped to the floor.

Just as he had gathered her up, holding her awkwardly around the waist, he heard her nightdress split as someone shouted, " _Diffindo_!"

With a loud 'pop,' Harry and Petunia were sucked into the vacuum of the space-time continuum as he Apparated to the safest place he could think of other than Hogwarts, which would most likely be guarded too heavily for him to enter on his own.

* * *

Harry was clutching Petunia's unconscious form when he appeared in front of Number 11, Grimmauld Place. Panting slightly as he tried to adjust his grip, he thought of the words Albus Dumbledore had written for him just two years before. _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place_ , he thought, concentrating on the gap between Number 11 and Number 13. Just as it had before, the Black family mansion appeared between the two other houses, pushing them out of the way as it expanded.

With a heave, Harry readjusted his grip on Petunia once more, wincing as her blood dripped onto his arms. Other than her slight breath on his shoulder, he would have guessed that she was dead.

He half-carried, half-dragged her to the front door, waving his wand over it so that the many locks disengaged and he was allowed entrance.

As soon as he reached the parlor, he deposited her carefully on the couch before trying to figure out what to do. No one was at Headquarters; he supposed they were all still fighting on Privet Drive. With a pang, he thought of Arthur Weasley's still form lying on the ruined carpet of the entryway, and he hoped beyond hope that he would survive.

Harry strode over to the fireplace, searching for Floo Powder and finding none. Cursing, he looked over at Aunt Petunia, who seemed to be growing paler by the minute as blood continued to seep through her nightdress. Knowing he had very little time, he ran down to the kitchen at top speed.

Finding the usual pot of powder beside the kitchen grate, he quickly lit a fire with his wand and threw a handful of it, watching dispassionately as the fire burned green. Kneeling and thrusting his head into the flames, he shouted, "Hogwarts Hospital Wing!"

Thankfully Madam Pomfrey was there, having already been warned that battle was at hand and to expect patients before night's end. She looked anxiously into the fire. "Potter?" she asked briskly, "are you injured?"

"I'm not," Harry said hurriedly, "but my aunt is. We're at Grimmauld Place; can you come?"

"Send word to the others," Madam Pomfrey instructed as she bustled about getting her things together, "that I shall be at Headquarters and to bring the injured either there or to St. Mungo's."

Harry nodded and pulled his head out of the fire. A problem immediately presented itself. How was he to tell the others when they were at the Dursley's house fighting? He doubted that it was wise to use the Floo in the middle of a battle.

He thought of the silvery signal that the Order sent as an idea came to him. As quickly as he could, Harry conjured up a picture in his mind of Ginny running towards him, her hair flying behind her back. " _Expecto Patronum!_ " he bellowed at the empty kitchen.

Prongs, in all his translucent-white glory, burst forth from the tip of Harry's wand and looked at him for instructions. Harry paused, not at all sure that this would work, but said awkwardly, "Erm, the others are at my aunt's house, erm, Number Four, Privet Drive. That's in Surrey. Can you tell them to come here when the battle is over and to bring people who are hurt?"

The glowing stag inclined his head slightly and leapt through the wall, becoming no more than a wisp of silver as he rushed to his destination.

As Harry was doing that, the whoosh of the flames in the grate had announced the arrival of Madam Pomfrey.

"Not precisely how the Order communicates, Potter," she said approvingly, "but impressive nonetheless. Now, where is your aunt?"

Harry led the nurse quickly back to the parlor, where she strode hastily to Aunt Petunia's side.

"Diffindo curse?" she asked Harry, who nodded in reply.

"Easy enough to repair," she muttered, waving her wand over the gash so that the bleeding stopped immediately, and Harry knew that the skin would look as good as new underneath the bloody nightdress.

"She'll need blood-replenishing potions next," the nurse told him. "Potter, fetch me some water, would you?"

As Harry ran back to the kitchen to fetch the requested water, he was startled to hear a soft 'pop' behind him. He turned, wand raised.

"Easy, Harry," Lupin said tiredly.

"Moony! But how did you - "

"Apparate here? Easy enough, since this house belongs to me," Lupin explained.

Harry finished filling a pitcher with water and looked through the cabinets to find a glass. Upon finding what he was looking for, he shot an apologetic look at his guardian and hurried off.

When he reached the parlor, Aunt Petunia was already regaining consciousness, though she seemed a little muddy on the details of what had happened.

"Your sort," she muttered, looking at Harry. "Came to my home...killed..." she suddenly sat straight upright, the memories of Vernon's and Dudley's deaths coming back to her full-strength.

After looking wildly around her for a few moments, Petunia gave into the pushes of the Hogwarts nurse on her shoulders and collapsed back onto the pillows, beginning to sob. It was a mark of exactly how distraught she was when she did not look askance at the dusty glass of potion Madam Pomfrey held up for her, but drank it as quickly as she could, never ceasing her sobbing.

Madam Pomfrey had obviously added a sedative to the blood replenishing potion, for as they watched, Petunia's sobs quieted until they were simply pitiful little hiccoughs. Before she fell into a troubled sleep, however, Petunia turned her head to look at Harry accusingly.

"Taking you...took everything from me," she muttered as her eyes closed.

Harry didn't have much time to worry about this statement because a thought suddenly occurred to him. Ginny, Ron and Mrs. Weasley were at the Burrow, likely having little or no idea what had occurred. Unless Mr. Weasley had (and Harry could barely even stand to think it) died, the hands on the clock would all remain pointing steadily at "mortal peril" and they might not know anything was amiss.

Hurrying back to the kitchen, he halted when he saw that the prone form of Arthur Weasley had been laid on the table, his head pillowed on someone's torn cloak. McGonagall, Moody, Lupin and Shacklebolt stood around him, looking very serious.

"He's not..." Harry whispered, fear trilling in his heart. Too much had been lost already...Cedric, Sirius, Mrs. Figg, Fred, Dumbledore, Hagrid...how many losses were they supposed to sustain and still remain standing?

"No," Lupin said comfortingly, placing his head on Harry's shoulders. "He's alive."

Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room, going straight to Mr. Weasley and pulling open each of his eyes, looking for what, Harry didn't know.

"He's been hit with something new, something I haven't seen before," Madam Pomfrey muttered. "It as though every neuron in his brain fired at the same time. I don't know, Minerva," she said, turning to the Headmistress. "I can bring him back, that much is certain, but the cost may be grave."

Harry didn't need to hear any more. He strode straight to the grate in the kitchen, once again threw glittering Floo powder into the flames and called "The Burrow!"

* * *

Ginny and Hermione were sitting in the lounge of the Burrow having a chat when Harry's head appeared in the fire right in front of them.

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed. "What a nice - " She broke off when she saw the look on his face. "What happened?" she asked instead, panic taking hold in her heart.

"You need to get your mum, Ginny, if no one else has," he said softly. "Your dad's been hurt; they attacked Privet Drive."

Ginny and Hermione both gasped and ran out of the room at once, Ginny to go get her mother and Hermione to go find Ron. Harry backed out of the fire to allow them entrance and explained what he had done to the assembled Order members.

"That was good thinking, Harry," Lupin said. "This is the safest place for them."

"Are we going to take Mr. Weasley to St. Mungo's?" Harry asked.

"Not if we can help it, boy," Moody answered him. "St. Mungo's is not secure. Don't forget what happened to Bode last year, and Arthur is too high-profile in his sympathies. No member of the Order will go to that blasted hospital unless there is no other choice."

"Arthur!" Molly called frantically as she burst out of the fireplace, her dressing robe flying behind her. She hurried to her husband's side, looking to Madam Pomfrey for news of his condition.

"I think he will be right after a time, Molly," Madam Pomfrey said as the whoosh of the fireplace announced the arrival of Ron, Ginny and Hermione, all of whom went straight to the table. "He might seem a little bit addled for a week or two, but from what I can tell, the damage is not permanent."

Molly breathed a sigh of relief as she bent to kiss Arthur's brow. "We should move him to a more comfortable spot," she said softly before looking around the room, seeming relieved when she caught sight of Harry and Bill. "Where are George and Percy?"

"They weren't present, Molly," Tonks answered. "I would assume they are still at the shop."

"What happened?"

"There was an attack at Privet Drive," Moody said. "We've got his aunt here, in the parlor, but his uncle and cousin were killed."

Molly gasped and Ginny went straight to Harry's side, wrapping him in a fierce hug. "I'm so sorry, Harry," she murmured.

Harry felt oddly devoid of emotion. Though he had certainly not wanted anything to happen to the Dursleys, he could not find any sadness within him. He could not find it within himself to mourn.

"It's OK," he muttered, patting Ginny's back while Molly rounded on Lupin and McGonagall.

"I thought you said Harry was safe until the evening!" she said accusingly. "We could have had him away from there before any of this happened!"

"Molly, I do not know why the blood protection voided early," Lupin replied, "but we could not remove Harry from Privet Drive before the thirty-first anyway. This was not avoidable."

"I know why," Harry said suddenly, realizing with a sickening pang why the blood protection had ended before 6:14. "Yesterday morning, at breakfast...I said...I told Uncle Vernon..."

"Yes, Harry?" Molly prompted, coming over to place her hand on his shoulder and look into his face.

"I told him that in fifteen hours I wouldn't be his problem anymore," Harry muttered. "I timed it to 12:01 A.M. on my watch...it was before I knew...I didn't know about my birth time."

"Harry, this is my fault," Lupin said heavily. "I should have told you sooner. You had no way of knowing about that, no way at all. It wasn't in any of the papers you'd seen. I should have warned you."

Harry shrugged. He still couldn't find it in himself to be particularly emotional over his uncle and cousin's deaths. He had lost too many people he had truly cared about to grieve for people who had mistreated him his entire life.

"Harry, it's not your fault, mate," Ron said awkwardly, guessing that Harry would soon begin blaming himself for what had happened.

"Not at all," Hermione said firmly. "You didn't know, and even if you had, he would have had to agree with you for it to break the contract."

Harry nodded.

"Let's get Arthur up to a room on the second floor," Lupin suggested.

"He'll be waking soon," Madam Pomfrey cautioned, "and he's likely to be quite disoriented."

"I'll stay with him, of course," Molly said. "Ginny and Ron, I need you to Floo back to the Burrow, preferably with at least one adult, and pack some things for us. We'll be staying here while your father recovers."

Ginny and Ron nodded, and Bill volunteered to go with them, as he would need some things for himself as well.

"Lupin," Molly said suddenly, "that is, of course, unless you object. It is your house."

"Of course I don't object, Molly," Lupin said gently. "You and yours will always be welcome here; you know that."

Ginny squeezed Harry's hand and kissed his cheek, whispering, "I'll be back soon, love," before she followed her two brothers back to the kitchen grate.

* * *

"Am I to understand," Voldemort stated quietly, "that although the boy and his father were killed, you failed yet again to bring me Harry Potter and his aunt?"

"They Disapparated before we could reach them," Severus Snape said smoothly. "He has become quite adept at his shield charm; our curses simply bounced right off of it, and as we had been forbidden to use the Unforgivables, we had few options but to advance with care."

"And you find that to be a reasonable explanation, Snape?" Voldemort asked, his voice lowering dangerously.

"My Lord, you have my word that we did all - "

" _Crucio_!" Voldemort said coldly, pointing his wand at the Hogwarts Potions Master.

After a few moments, he lifted the curse. "Stand, Severus," he commanded, and watched with something akin to amusement as Snape struggled to his feet, fighting for breath.

"Let me make myself clear," Voldemort addressed the group around him, all of whom had been through similar treatment as Snape in the hours preceding. "The blood that runs in Petunia Dursley's veins as well as Harry Potter's is valuable to me. So valuable, in fact, that I will be suspending all other activities until they are found and brought to me."

The Death Eaters narrowly avoided allowing looks of surprise to show on their faces.

"You are aware, my friends," Voldemort hissed, "that I am now closer than I have ever been in my quest for true immortality. The time for failure is past, and I want that blood."

"You shall have it, My Lord," the Death Eaters answered as one, knowing that no other reply would be permissible.

* * *

Life at Headquarters fell into a loose routine soon after Harry and the Weasleys had moved in. Aunt Petunia was moved to a vacant room next to the second-floor bedroom in which Arthur was convalescing, and she spent more and more of her days awake and aware of what was going on around her. In several of her breaks from sitting by Arthur's side, Molly was seen entering Petunia's bedroom, emerging some moments later, looking both sadder and more frustrated each time she did so.

Mr. Weasley regained consciousness three days after the attack and awoke, surrounded by his children, wife, Remus Lupin and Harry, who had all come into the room at Madam Pomfrey's advice. She had felt that many familiar faces would be just what Arthur Weasley needed to bring him back to himself as quickly as possible. It became obvious very quickly that he was far from recovery. "Mollywobbles," Arthur asked plaintively the moment he had awoken, "have you seen my plugs?"

Molly blushed profusely, as this had been said in front of most her children as well as Lupin and Harry. A slight titter comprised more of relief than amusement swept through the group and Molly pulled herself together enough to answered cheerfully, "Your plugs are just fine, dear," as though she were talking to a very small child.

Ginny giggled in spite of herself. Her mother was using the same tone as she had once used whenever one of the Weasley children had suggested something ludicrous when they were small. Though Ginny knew that the situation was serious, she couldn't help but enjoy the levity in her mother's voice.

Ginny's giggle attracted Arthur's attention, and he looked at her up and down as though trying to place her. "You're quite pretty, you know," he said conversationally. "Have we met?"

Ginny's smile faded just a bit at her father's question, but she answered gently, "I'm Ginny, Dad. I'm your daughter."

"Of course, of course," Arthur replied cheerfully. "Sorry 'bout that, got a bit of a knock 'round the head, you know."

The room sighed in relief, for if Arthur had truly been unable to remember his daughter, it would have made the situation ten times more serious.

"It's OK, Dad," Ginny said quietly, bending to kiss him on the cheek.

"Mollywobbles," Mr. Weasley said again (to Mrs. Weasley's embarrassment), looking around the room and counting the many redheads. "We have quite a lot of children, don't we?"

"We do indeed, my dear," Molly agreed, handing him a cup of steaming peppermint tea. "Now hush up and drink your tea."

Obediently, Mr. Weasley sipped his tea, still looking around the room curiously. No one spoke for a few moments until his gaze finally fell on Harry, who had been trying to remain unobtrusive on what he considered to be a family moment.

"Good lord," he said in surprise. "You're Harry Potter!"

Harry nodded uncomfortably in response to the greeting, wondering how much Mr. Weasley remembered.

"Well, well," Mr. Weasley said. "Glad to see you're quite alright, my boy. I think Ginny here would have been quite upset if they'd gotten _you_."

"Too right I would've!" Ginny said a little too cheerfully.

Mr. Weasley leaned forward conspiratorially, motioning for Harry to come closer. "I do think she fancies you," he whispered loudly. Everyone in the room laughed.

"Well, of course she does," George responded.

"Has for years," Bill supplied.

"Really, Father, how are you feeling?" Percy asked seriously. Though he had relaxed quite a bit over the past half of a year, he was still the most formal member of the Weasley family, and he saw no reason for this nonsense when there were important matters to be attended to and discussed.

"Oh, you know," Mr. Weasley said. "Not quite right as rain, I suppose."

"Are you ready for a rest, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked in her most motherly tone.

"Care to join me, Mollywobbles?" Mr. Weasley smiled suggestively, patting the spot next to him on the bed.

"Arthur, really," Molly mumbled, but she was smiling under her bright red cheeks. "You need your rest."

At this, she waved the rest of them out of the room with a furtive motion, and they all bid Mr. Weasley good night.

* * *

Out in the hallway, Harry stopped in front of Aunt Petunia's closed door. He had not gone in to see her since the day of the attack, and she had been sleeping at that time. He looked at Ginny questioningly.

"You're going to have to face her sometime, love," Ginny said quietly. "Just remember, the things she might say have more to do with her grief than the truth. Don't let her tell you this was your fault. You know whose fault it was."

Harry nodded.

"Whose fault was it?" Ginny asked, falling into a routine that she, Hermione and Ron had adopted over the past few days. It annoyed Harry greatly, but that didn't stop them.

"Ginny, not now."

"Whose fault was it?" she persisted, her voice both understanding and unwavering.

"Voldemort's," Harry answered with a grimace.

"Thank you. Now remember that, and go see your aunt. It'll eat you up until you do, love." She kissed him softly. "I'll wait for you right out here."

Harry nodded again and raised his hand to knock softly on the door.

"You're going to come in anyway," Petunia's irritated voice, raw from three days of almost continual sobbing, "so you may as well."

With a last glimpse at Ginny's encouraging face, he pushed the door open.

Aunt Petunia, as she had been since her arrival, was in bed. Several potions sat on the bedside table along with a tray of nearly untouched food. When she saw Harry come through her door, her face hardened into an ugly snarl.

"You," she said contemptuously. "I have nothing to say to you."

Harry was not surprised by this greeting; it had been no better or worse than he had expected after everything she had gone through.

"Aunt Petunia," he began awkwardly.

"Don't call me 'aunt'," she snapped before he could continue. "You are no relation of mine. The only titles I want to hear now are 'mother' and 'wife', and you have stripped both of those from me."

"You will always be a mother and a wife," Harry said softly, feeling an unprecedented amount of sympathy for the angry woman before him. "No one can take that from you. You'll also always be my aunt, whether you want to be or not. We are tied together by my mother's blood."

"I should have left you to rot," was Aunt Petunia's only reply to this speech.

"I'm sorry about what happened," Harry continued, trying his best not to let her anger get to him.

"You're sorry," she spat. "Will that bring back my precious son and husband?"

"I wish it would," Harry said, "and if there was anything I could do to bring them back, I would do so."

"There's nothing, then?" Aunt Petunia asked, a frantic note of hope in her voice. "There's no - potions, or whatever your lot uses for sicknesses, that can undo the spells that killed my family?" Harry knew from conversations he had overheard between Mrs. Weasley and Remus Lupin that this was not the first time she had asked this question; he also knew that it was a question which he would be forced to give a horrible answer.

He bowed his head. Though he could still not honestly say that he was sorry Dudley and Uncle Vernon were gone, the pain in her voice and the hope that events could be changed reminded him forcibly of how he had felt following the deaths of Sirius, Dumbledore and, most recently, Hagrid. "There's nothing to counteract that curse," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's what killed my Mum and Dad as well."

"And mine," Aunt Petunia replied harshly.

Harry head snapped up. "Yours?" he asked blankly. "My...grandparents?"

Aunt Petunia nodded angrily. "No doubt they would have been just as impressed with you as they were with my sister," she said with venom. "But your lot killed them, just like you killed...my Dudley...my baby..." Her voice changed as she began to sob once again.

Harry did some quick figuring in his head. Voldemort had killed his mother's parents, but not his father's, had come after his family three times before he had defeated Harry's parents, but was vanquished for thirteen years when the curse meant for Harry had rebounded back onto himself.

 _There might be something more to why he chose me over Neville as the one most likely to destroy him_ , Harry thought wildly.

"Pity that Voldemort didn't kill you along with your parents," Aunt Petunia suddenly announced with a pitiful hiccough. "Then none of this would have happened."

"When I survived...when you took me in..." Harry mumbled, his mind working frantically with only a few pieces of this new puzzle in place. "He would have come for you anyway." The last was spoken in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Get out," Aunt Petunia said suddenly, her voice becoming almost hysterical. "Get out of here, and don't let me see you again!"

Harry cast her one more look before he left the room, more questions swirling in his mind than he had ever had before. How come no one had ever told him this?

* * *

"Oh, Harry," Ginny murmured as he came out of the room. Sticking out of one of her pockets was a flesh-colored string that he knew belonged to one of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes' sets of Extendable Ears.

"He killed my grandparents," Harry answered. "How come no one ever told me? Dumbledore, Moony, Sirius...even Hagrid and McGonagall...Moody...they all had to have known!"

"We'll find out, Harry," Ginny promised him solemnly. "I don't know the answers, but we'll find out." She gathered him into a warm hug, and they stood holding one another for several moments before she broke apart from him.

"We never got a chance to celebrate your birthday," she said a trifle sadly. "With everything that happened...I don't know if anyone even remembered to say anything to you about it, not even me."

"Moony remembered," Harry said, for his guardian had wished him a happy birthday shortly before they had all retired the night after the battle. "It doesn't matter, though," he continued. "We have more important things to worry about."

Ginny nodded. The truth in his words could not be denied, but she still wanted to mark the occasion, albeit belatedly. "In any case," she said definitely, "I know that everyone has something they want to give you, and now that Dad's on the mend and things are quiet for a time..." she trailed off before she seemed to come to a decision. "Let me get everyone; let's meet in Dad's room. I know he'll want to be part of it."

"Ginny, I - " Harry begin, fully intending to tell her that he did not want to celebrate this particular birthday.

"I don't want to hear it, Harry," she said sternly. "Just wait here."

She strode back to the door that led to her parents' room and knocked softly. When she heard Mrs. Weasley's reply, she opened it and went inside, closing it once again behind her. Harry heard soft voices inside before Ginny reemerged and told him to wait with her parents while she got everyone else.

It didn't take long, and Harry felt more cheerful after a few minutes of Mr. Weasley's absentminded chatter. Though it had been a bad injury that had caused his levity, there could be no doubt that his innocent and playful remarks were a relief to the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place after the serious conversations that went on in the other rooms of the mansion.

Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Lupin all arrived, Ron and Hermione carrying a large package between them and Lupin seeming to be empty-handed. They were followed after a few moments by Tonks, who was bearing a small package, and McGonagall, who also seemed to have nothing in her hands. Harry realized that Ginny must have contacted them via Floo.

As soon as they were joined by George, Percy and Bill, Mrs. Weasley said with an attempt at joviality, "Happy birthday, Harry dear!"

This was followed by well-wishes from everyone assembled in the now-crowded room.

"Birthday?" Mr. Weasley said. "Your birthday, of course! What a wonderful thing! Happy birthday, son!"

Harry blushed a little at these words; though he often thought of the Weasleys as something akin to his own parents, no one had ever in his memory referred to him as 'son'. He glanced at Lupin, who merely smiled at him, not seeming to mind the reference.

"I'm sorry we didn't have a proper feast for you, dear," Mrs. Weasley said sadly. "We had one planned, but..."

"It's OK, Mrs. Weasley," Harry answered. "Just having all of you here is enough."

"Of course it's not enough!" George interrupted. "You've got to have your presents! Can Percy and I go first, seeing as how there's no food to slow us down?"

Harry had to laugh. This sounded like the George he had always known.

"Go ahead, then, dear," Mrs. Weasley prompted, and George held out a large box.

Harry opened it, expecting the usual assortment of jokes and pranks from their shop, but he was surprised when he found a wider variety of items, most of which he had never seen before.

"These are anti-dark detectors and defense items," Percy explained seriously. "It's a new line we've been developing."

Harry pawed through the box eagerly, seeing a small, compact version of the cracked foe-glass which had been in the fake Moody's office during fourth-year; an Unopenable Box which would only reveal its contents to its rightful owner; and a packet of powder which, Percy explained, was crushed bezoar and would counteract nearly any poison known to Wizardkind. "You'll want to be careful of that, Harry," he warned. "Because it is crushed, it is much more concentrated than a whole bezoar. Most of that simply passes through the body. You'll only need a pinch."

Harry also found invisible ink, Auto-Sealing parchment rolls, and, to his infinite delight, a small leather leg band for Hedwig which would render her invisible to the naked eye.

"Thanks, George and Percy!" Harry said sincerely, knowing perhaps better than the rest just how much he might need these items in the months to come.

"It's from Fred, too," Percy commented quietly. "He and George developed a lot of this stuff last year."

Harry nodded seriously.

"Our turn!" Ron, Hermione and Ginny announced as soon as Harry had put the items from George and Percy back into their box.

Harry tore off the brown paper wrapping on their package to reveal what looked quite like a normal Muggle camping backpack, complete with a frame to support it on his back.

"We found it on Owl Order from Quality Quidditch Supplies," Hermione said excitedly. "It's charmed to fit your broomstick, team robes, playing supplies, and just about anything else you want to fit into it!"

"Thanks!" Harry said sincerely, although he could not help a tiny note of suspicion that there was more to this gift than anyone wanted to admit. "I've never seen one of these before; it's perfect!"

"Look inside!" Ginny said, smiling, and Harry opened it.

Stuffed into all of the pockets of the bag was an assortment of Honeydukes sweets, including Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Sugar Quills and even a few novelties like Cockroach Clusters and Acid Pops. Harry had to laugh. "You guys will have to help me with all this!" he protested.

"My turn," Lupin said quietly after Harry had handed Chocolate Frogs to everyone in the room.

"Chocolate Frogs! How wonderful!" exclaimed Mr. Weasley, catching his before it hopped off the bed and biting its head cleanly off. "Oooh! Cards! I've got Merlin; anyone want to swap?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, dear," Mrs. Weasley chided gently. "I think Remus wants to give Harry his gift, so hush up for now."

Lupin reached into his cloak pocket and pulled out a small, unwrapped box, which he handed to Harry with a smile that was more sad than congratulatory.

Harry opened the box slowly and not without some trepidation. Inside, nestled on a bed of cotton, lay a thin band of light wood, intricately carved and only slightly larger in diameter than Harry's first finger.

"It is...a ring?" Harry asked, preparing to slip it onto his hand.

"Not exactly, Harry," Lupin said. "Can you read the runes on the side?"

"Erm, no," Harry replied, having never taken Ancient Runes.

Hermione rushed forward. "I can!" she said excitedly. She bent over the wooden ring, looking intently. After a few moments, she looked up, her eyes shining as she held it aloft.

"Professor Lupin," she breathed, "is this what I think it is?"

He nodded.

"It's for your wand, Harry," Hermione explained.

"I've got one of those!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed. "But...oh, bother, whatever have I done with my wand?"

Tonks pulled her wand out of her pocket and held it backwards by its tip so that Harry could see the base. About an inch from the handling end, a band of light wood exactly the same as the one Hermione held in her hand surrounded the darker wood of her wand.

Silently, Molly, George, Percy, Bill, McGonagall and Lupin also held their wands out. Surrounding the base of each was one of the wooden bands.

"It says," Hermione whispered, "'Brothers in arms, fighting as one.'"

"That's it?" Ron said.

"That's it?" Hermione said incredulously. "Ron, don't you realize?"

"You want me to join the Order?" Harry asked.

"Not exactly," Lupin clarified. "The rules have not changed; only overage wizards who have left school will be brought into the Order of the Phoenix. However, Harry, given your position, we felt as though this was an appropriate measure. These bands allow us to contact one another using pure thought whenever the need arises. I believe you will find this useful."

"It's like the amulets you and I carry," Harry said, wondering what made this so special.

"Not exactly, Mr. Potter," McGonagall broke in. "These bands form a connection between the wands of he Order members, allowing us several advantages as we work together. It is a great privilege to be given one, but also a great responsibility."

"No more than the one he already bears," Ginny broke in.

McGonagall's face softened as she sighed. "You're right, Miss Weasley," she said in a less severe tone.

"Do you accept this, Harry?" Lupin asked, indicating the band of wood Hermione still held.

Harry nodded.

"Then put it on the base of your wand," he prompted.

As Harry slipped the slim band around the base of his wand, three crimson sparks emitted from the tip and showered gracefully to the ground.

"Use it well," Lupin said softly.

Harry looked at him sharply, not sure if his guardian could possibly have known that those had been the exact words Dumbledore had written to him on the note accompanying his Invisibility Cloak during Christmas of his first year. He couldn't tell one way or another, but he couldn't see how Lupin could possibly have known about something like that.

The impromptu birthday party continued with the usual gifts of defense books and broomstick care items, and ended only when Arthur's eyelids began to droop.

"I believe it is time we called it a night," Mrs. Weasley announced, and most of the rest of them were too tired to argue. As Harry passed the door that led into Petunia Dursley's room, he stopped for a moment. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, and he couldn't have done so in the middle of all those people, whether they were Order members or not.

"Let her be, love," Ginny said softly, easily reading his dilemma. "Lupin knows as much as she does, or at least enough for now. She's not going anywhere."

"She's got nowhere to go," Harry answered, not realizing that at that very moment, Petunia Dursley was making plans for her own immediate departure from Grimmauld Place.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair. Harry, still absorbed in what Aunt Petunia had told him the day before, kept stealing glances at Lupin, waiting for an opportune moment to ask him for a private talk, while Ginny kept taking hold of his hand under the table and squeezing it softly. Even Ron and Hermione, who did not yet know of the startling revelation from the night before, seemed subdued. The adult Order members were nearly always quiet in the mornings, most of them having had some kind of duty during the night. Bill, Percy, George, Molly, Mad-Eye Moody and Lupin all ate as silently as the teenagers, absorbed in their own thoughts and weariness. The only person at the table who seemed to feel cheerful was Mr. Weasley, who was eating his eggs and sausages gleefully.

The kitchen door creaked open, causing all of them to look around in surprise which turned to shock when they saw who had come through the door.

"We have a guest for breakfast!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed happily. "Mollywobbles, dish up some more of these wonderful sausages!"

Petunia Dursley glared at him, not knowing or caring about the cause of his exuberance. "I have come to inform you that I will be leaving today," she said stiffly, looking with distaste upon the assembled "freaks" in this dark and obviously unclean kitchen.

"Mrs. Dursley - " Molly began anxiously.

"Mrs. Weasley, is it?" Petunia interrupted rudely. "I see no reason why I should be forced to remain in this _house_ against my will. I would have gone much earlier, but it seems that all the doors have been locked. I demand that you release me at once."

"For your own protection - " Lupin began.

"And fine protection you provide!" screeched Petunia a bit madly. "Under your _protection_ , my husband and son were - were killed." She stumbled a little on the words, but her voice did not diminish in shrillness as she continued, "I do not need or want to have any further association with _your_ kind."

"We will provide you with a guard as often as we - " Mad-Eye Moody began, a note of sympathy evident in his gruff voice.

"I will not be followed!" Petunia interrupted once again. "If you dare to track my movements, I will be forced to reveal all of this - " she waved her hand to indicate the kitchen and, it seemed, the entire Wizarding world, "to our government, the press and anyone else who will listen. I will not have the deaths of my son and husband overlooked! They were not even given a proper funeral. I will _not_ be followed!" As she spoke, she continued to wave her hands as though she were swatting away a very persistent mosquito.

"Mrs. Dursley, dear - " Mrs. Weasley began kindly.

"No!" Petunia shrieked.

"Understand something," Moody broke in before Petunia could start shouting again. "Though we have the authority to give you our word that the Order of the Phoenix will not follow you from this house, we cannot speak for the other side."

"The other side!" Petunia laughed madly. "Once I'm clear of _him_ , I'm sure I'll be quite safe." She jerked her head towards Harry. "He's poison," she spat.

"Now you listen - " Ginny began, springing from her seat.

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley chided, looking at her sharply. Surprisingly, Ginny sat back down in her chair, though her ears were still glowing red.

"You are certain you will not accept our protection?" Lupin asked quietly, though Harry noticed him gripping the sides of his chair so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Petunia stifled a sob. "Just stay away from me," she whispered finally, sounding broken and defeated.

Mad-Eye Moody looked at Lupin, then at Bill, Mrs. Weasley, George and Percy in turn. They all nodded.

"Very well," he muttered. "But I must warn you once more that I can't speak for the other side. There is only one thing left to do."

Petunia shrieked as he raised his wand and pointed it directly at her.

" _Obliviate_ ," Moody growled, and everyone at the table watched as Petunia Dursley's memory of Grimmauld Place and its inhabitants was stripped from her mind. Her face oddly slack, she allowed herself to be led out of the house and to the train station.


	4. United We Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Harry continues to grapple with the aftermath of the battle of Privet Drive and the information Petunia gave him, he decides its time to let his friends in on his secret. Will they find the first of the missing horcruxes...and will Ginny consent to be left behind? As Harry continues to grapple with the aftermath of the battle of Privet Drive and the information Petunia gave him, he decides its time to let his friends in on his secret. Will they find the first of the missing horcruxes...and will Ginny consent to be left behind?

Just as he had been after Uncle Vernon's and Dudley's deaths, Harry could not bring himself to feel any real emotion over Aunt Petunia's sudden departure from Grimmauld Place at breakfast. He had watched her go, knowing that she was in as much danger as she ever had been, but he had not tried to stop her.

If what she had said the previous night was true and Voldemort had really killed his grandparents, who were both Muggles, but had not gone after the Potters even before he had chosen Harry as the one who posed the most threat, it was clear that for some reason, Voldemort had an interest in the Evans family. Exactly why, Harry could not even guess.

He really wanted to talk to his guardian, but Lupin had, as usual, left the house right after breakfast, only giving Harry a chance to wave a half-hearted goodbye but not to ask any questions. He had found over the past several days that Lupin generally left early in the morning, not to return until dinnertime or later. Harry supposed he was still trying to recruit the werewolves into the Order of the Phoenix.

Shortly after Lupin had gone, Harry went back up to Sirius's old room, which had become his room over the course of the past year. He knew that Ginny, Ron and Hermione wouldn't be far behind him; Mrs. Weasley had enlisted their help in cleaning the kitchen but had excused Harry because he was "looking a bit peaky, dear," and needed his rest.

Going to his trunk, which Bill had been thoughtful enough to get from the Dursleys for him, he dug down to the very bottom, where he had packed Dumbledore's packet of parchment. He counted himself quite lucky that he hadn't been working directly with it on the night of the battle; he supposed the notes he had been making when the Dark Mark had been cast were long gone, and he vaguely remembered spilling ink on them, anyway.

Sitting cross-legged on the big bed, Harry organized the notes, as had become his habit, into six piles: the notes he had made, information about the horcruxes that had already been accounted for, and a stack each for the four remaining ones.

Of the four remaining horcruxes, it seemed as though Dumbledore had only discovered the identities of two: a locket belonging to Salazar Slytherin and a cup which had once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. The Headmaster had believed, especially after figuring out the existence of these two, that Voldemort would have wanted something belonging to each of the four founders of Hogwarts, who were still heralded as some of the most powerful wizards in history. Unfortunately, his research had not been complete, and there was very little information on the possible objects of Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor.

Sighing, Harry took the stack of parchment which contained information on Slytherin's locket. It really was time to let his friends take a look at this; he needed Hermione to help with the translations of both ancient runes and Latin, Ron to try to help him discover any strategy Voldemort may have had in the hiding of the objects, and Ginny to...well, he just needed Ginny, even more than the other two, if that were possible.

The night of the battle at Privet Drive, Harry had been trying to find more information on a sketch he had found in Dumbledore's notes, a sketch of an elaborate "S" surrounded by intertwined serpents. Harry knew that must have been one of the Slytherin family symbols, but he also felt like he had seen it somewhere before.

A soft knock sounded on the door, but it opened before he had a chance to respond. "Harry?" Ginny asked, peeking her head in, "may we come in?"

"Ginny!" exclaimed an astounded Ron from behind her. "You didn't even wait for him to answer! You could have seen him in his - "

"Oh, stop it, Ron," Ginny snapped. "Harry's perfectly decent."

"Of course he is," Hermione said with strained patience. "Now, if you two don't mind, maybe we can stop standing around in the corridor, arguing like schoolchildren?"

"Well, we _are_ schoolchildren, aren't we?" Harry heard Ron respond in a loud undertone, and he chuckled in spite of himself.

"First years, then, Ronald," Hermione retorted. "Harry?"

"Come in," Harry said, still grinning slightly as the three of them came in and settled themselves on chairs on one side of the bed. Hermione's eyes widened when she saw the sheer amount of information that was spread out around Harry, and he could see her eagerness to begin as easily as if she had worn a sign on her forehead.

Ron, however, sighed. "Honestly, why couldn't Professor Dumbledore have just left you his old broomstick or something?"

Before he could stop himself, Harry laughed his first real laugh since Dumbledore's death. For some reason, Ron's comment seemed much funnier than it ought to have been, and Harry was forcibly reminded of the image that had come into his head at the funeral at the beginning of the summer: Dumbledore, his silver hair and beard flying out behind him, streaking through the sky above the Quidditch pitch in hot pursuit of the Golden Snitch.

"So what are we looking at here, love?" Ginny asked when he had stopped laughing.

Harry's expression sobered instantly, and for the next ten minutes Ron, Hermione and Ginny listened, their expressions growing in horror with each word, as Harry explained about the horcruxes. When he had finished, everyone was silent for a few moments.

"Tom's diary was one of these - these horcruxes?" Ginny finally asked, looking a bit paler than usual. Somehow, it seemed even worse to think she had been possessed by a real bit of Tom Riddle's soul, rather than merely his memory.

Harry nodded, shooting her what he hoped was a comforting and encouraging glance.

"And the ring," Ron mumbled. "That blasted ring." It was clear that the memory of Dumbledore's death in Hyde Park had rushed to the forefront of his mind as he thought about what had happened as Dumbledore destroyed it. Quietly and without discussion, the four friends took one another's hands, forming a rough circle as they lent comfort to one another.

"Which one are you going to try to find first?" Ginny asked quietly after a few moments.

"Slytherin's locket," Harry answered definitely. "That's the one we've got the most information about right now. Moony's been trying to find out about some of the others. He's the only person who knows about this aside from us." He nodded his head towards the stacks of parchment, loath to break the comforting connection of Ginny's and Hermione's hands in each of his.

Almost as though they had read his thoughts, Ginny and Hermione both squeezed his hands softly before letting go. Hermione took the parchment that Harry had indicated and began to look at it.

"The inscription on the locket," she said ponderingly. "It's how we'll know we have the right one, but where do we even begin looking?"

"Borgin and Burks?" Ron suggested.

"Maybe," Harry replied as Hermione passed the notes over to Ginny, the same thought having occurred to him. "Even if he doesn't have it, he might know where to start looking. I feel like I've seen it before -"

Ginny gasped when she saw the drawing of the locket's inscription. "Harry! It's here!"

Ron, Hermione and Harry all turned to gape at her. "Here?" Ron asked. "You're barking! Why would it have been here?"

"I don't know, Ron," Ginny replied evenly, "but it is. Remember summer before last when Mum made us clean up around here?"

Ron groaned. That summer, the first they had spent at Headquarters, had sometimes seemed as though it was one endless day of housework as Mrs. Weasley had set out to purge the house of dirt and old artifacts.

"It was in that cabinet in the parlor," Ginny continued, ignoring Ron's groan at the memory.

Suddenly, Harry remembered the dusty old locket. Before tossing it into the rubbish bags, he had glanced at it. "Ginny's right," he said, feeling both excited and nervous. "It was one of the dark objects we were trying to get rid of. I binned it, though."

"Kreacher!" Hermione exclaimed. "He kept trying to take things out of the bags. Maybe he kept it!"

"Kreacher's not around anymore," Ron reminded her. "He left the house and went to the Malfoys, right, Harry?"

"Dumbledore said Narcissa probably killed him," Harry said flatly, not liking to remember the treacherous house-elf. "He was addled after the Order forced him to tell his part in..." he trailed off. Even now, well over a year later, it was very painful for him to think about the Department of Mysteries and the death of his godfather.

"We could ask her," Ginny suggested. "She's still at Hogwarts. I heard Mum and Dad talking about it before your birthday."

"We could do that," Ron said, liking the idea.

"Why don't we have a look at Kreacher's room first?" Hermione said quietly. "He lived here, under the boiler, remember? If he did take it, maybe it's there."

Harry jumped up, his heart pounding. "Let's go look," he said, but he could hardly believe that it would be that easy.

The four of them pounded down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Oh, ho!" Mr. Weasley greeted them as they burst through the door. "Off for an adventure, I see! Splendid! Can I come?" He stood up eagerly, forgetting the cup of tea Molly had just made for him to drink while she scrubbed the floors.

"Not right now, Dad," Ron said gently.

"What are you four up to?" Mrs. Weasley asked suspiciously. "Arthur, dear, sit back down. They're not going anywhere, are you?"

"We just wanted to nip down to the basement for a moment," Ginny explained casually. "I noticed that there wasn't any butterbeer in the cupboard last night, and we wanted some. I thought there might be some old bottles down there. It gets better with age, you know."

Harry disguised his amazement with some difficulty, trying to look as though this had indeed been the plan all along. Behind him, Ron nodded vigorously while Hermione examined a small tear on the sleeve of her t-shirt.

Mrs. Weasley looked at them, not sure whether or not to believe the story. After a few moments, however, she seemed unable to find the harm in going down into the old basement, no matter what they were really after. "Alright, then," she said. "Go find your butterbeer if it's down there, and mind you don't get your clothes dirty. I've just done the wash."

"Can't I go, Molly?" Arthur asked. "There might be batteries down there!"

"There are no batteries, Dad," Ginny said, kissing the balding top of his head. "But we'll bring you some butterbeer if we can find any, how's that?"

"Is there Firewhisky?" he responded hopefully, twisting his head to look at her.

Everyone in the room had to chuckle at that question, even Mrs. Weasley.

"Sure thing, Dad," Ron replied, anxious to get down and search Kreacher's area. "We'll be back in a bit."

Mrs. Weasley sighed as she looked at the four of them retreating down the stairs into the cellar. She knew they were hiding something, but when weren't they?

* * *

Hermione led them straight to Kreacher's old bed, a pile of rags with a small dent in the center where the house-elf had slept.

"He used the quilt I gave him for Christmas," she whispered sadly. Indeed, the brightly patched, elf-sized quilt, though now quite as dirty as everything else in the 'den,' was wadded up on one side.

"He used to have all sorts of picture frames and goblets and other rubbish down here," Harry said furiously, looking around. There was nothing like that there now. Besides his blankets, the space under the boiler was quite empty. He began rifling through the rags, throwing them aside until he reached the bare floor.

"It's no good, Harry," Ginny said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder as he investigated the floorboards, looking for a loose one. When he did pull one of the planks up, however, he saw only bare dirt. There was no room under here to hide anything.

"If it was here," Hermione concluded. "It's not anymore. We might as well go back upstairs," she continued, rubbing her nose to keep from sneezing.

"Not before we look and see if there's some butterbeer," Ginny reminded them. "We told Mum that's what we were after, remember?"

"I could do with some, anyway," Ron said hopefully. "I'm parched."

Upon further investigation of the cellar, they did indeed find a small carton full of dusty butterbeer bottles, and Harry carried it back upstairs, knowing Mrs. Weasley was less likely to tell him off for dirtying his shirt than she was Ron or Ginny.

"Found some, I see," Mrs. Weasley commented as they came back into the kitchen. "Find anything else?" she asked shrewdly.

"Firewhisky?" Mr. Weasley asked hopefully, and he looked down with apparent dismay at his herbal tea when Ginny shook her head.

"This is all we found, Mrs. Weasley," Harry answered truthfully. He had never found it easy to lie to her, so in that respect, he was glad they hadn't brought the locket back up with them.

Molly looked at them piercingly; after raising seven children, she knew when she was not being told the whole truth. After a moment, however, when none of them volunteered any additional information, she sighed. "Right, then," she said briskly. "Why don't all of you sit down and have your butterbeer, and Harry, dear, you'll need to change your shirt."

"Actually, Mum, is it OK if we go upstairs while we drink it?" Ginny asked.

Molly sighed again, now certain beyond all doubt that they were keeping something from her. Knowing her children as well as she did, however, she knew that asking them directly would get her nowhere. "Very well," she said resignedly, and watched them leave the room once again.

"Quiet lot, that," Mr. Weasley commented as the door swung shut.

* * *

"So what are we going to do now?" Ron asked after taking a swig of tepid butterbeer. They had all returned to Harry's room and were settled comfortably on the big bed. Harry was leaning back, his head resting comfortably in Ginny's lap, but Hermione was looking through the information on Slytherin's locket again, thinking they had missed some clue to its location.

"I've got to find it, and the other four, as quickly as I can," Harry said seriously. "This can't go on."

All three of them nodded in agreement, but no one spoke at first, each of them lost in their private thoughts.

"You're not going back to Hogwarts, are you, Harry?" Hermione finally asked.

It cost Harry a great deal to answer. "No," he said. "We can't afford to wait another year." This had been at the back of his mind ever since he had first read what Dumbledore had left him. Now that he knew how much work and travel would likely be required to find the other four horcruxes, not to mention destroy him, Harry knew he could not return to school.

"I didn't think you would, mate," Ron said. "I could tell you were thinking about it even before you told us all this." He indicated the mess of papers in the center of the bed.

"We're going with you, Harry," Hermione said quietly, but in a tone that brokered no arguments.

"No," Harry said automatically. He was not about to lead his friends into danger yet again.

"We're overage wizards," Ron stated. "It's not for you to decide what we do or don't do."

"What about your NEWTs, Hermione?" Harry asked, trying to appeal to her sense of academic responsibility.

"I can still take them," Hermione said. "There is no rule that says you have to be enrolled in school to sign up for the test, is there? We'll simply have to study on the road."

Ginny remained silent.

"I don't think - "Harry began.

"Harry, mate, we've been by you in everything," Ron said. "For six years, we've been by you. We're not about to leave you alone now, when the stakes are this high, are we?"

"No, we're not," Hermione added.

"What about me?" Ginny asked quietly.

"You're not of age," Ron said simply. "You've got to go back to school. Mum'll never let you come."

"If you think for one minute that you're going to go off and leave me," Ginny said, rising to her knees and causing Harry's head to bounce off the mattress, "you've got another think coming, and you - "

"Ginny," Hermione wheedled. "I wish you could come, I really do, but you know you won't be allowed."

"I'd like to see Mum try and stop me!" Ginny raged, jumping off the bed and beginning to pace, her face as fiery red as her hair.

"You're underage," Harry said. "You can't perform magic outside of school."

"That's bunk, Harry," Ginny retorted. "If I'm traveling with three adult wizards, who's going to know?"

"Ginny, you need to go back to Hogwarts," Harry replied firmly. "Someone's got to be there to lead the D.A., and how are you going to become a Healer if you don't take any NEWT classes?"

"You're not leaving me!" she cried shrilly. "You're not leaving me behind!"

"None of you is going anywhere but Hogwarts," said a voice from the doorway, and they all jumped. They had been so busy trying to calm Ginny down that they hadn't noticed when Mrs. Weasley had slipped in a few minutes before.

 _How long has she been listening?_ Harry wondered, hoping she hadn't heard anything about the horcruxes. He quickly used his wand to sweep the parchment back into the leather pack before she saw any of it.

"Mum, listen," Ron began.

"No, Ronald Weasley, _you_ listen," Mrs. Weasley growled. "I don't know what you four are planning, but you may put a stopper in it right at this moment. All four of you are going back to Hogwarts, and that is the last word on the matter."

"No, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry in the same serious tone he had used while talking with the Dursleys about Voldemort. "You know the Prophecy; you know that I am the one who has to put a stop to this. It can't wait while I finish school. How many more people will die?" His voice broke just the slightest bit as he thought of those who already had.

"Remus will never allow it," she retorted, but her voice wavered.

"He will," Harry replied. "He knows what I have to do."

"We're going with him, Mum," Ron stated. "He can't go alone; you know he can't."

"Ronald," she snapped.

"I'm of age now," Ron replied, keeping his tone mature and reasonable. "This is the right thing to do, and it is what I'm going to do."

"I am as well," Hermione put in. "We swore we'd stand by Harry - "

"Do you not think I and the rest of the Order have sworn the same thing?" Mrs. Weasley asked sharply. "Do you believe that you are the only ones who care for him, the only ones who care to win this war?"

"I'm going, too," Ginny said softly.

"You most certainly are _not_ , young lady!" Mrs. Weasley flared. "You are underage and still under my protection and authority, and you _will_ be going back to school! Ronald, you will be as well, and Hermione, you may be certain that I will owl your parents about this." Her eyes filled with tears even as she ranted at them. In her heart of hearts, she knew she could not stop the older three from going where they would. Under Wizarding law, it was their decision now, and she knew it.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, hating himself for causing her pain when she had given him so much, "but I don't have a choice. I am ready to go it alone."

"No way, Harry," Ron and Hermione said together.

"What about me?" Ginny yelled.

"You are going back to school!" Mrs. Weasley retorted. "I would suggest that the rest of you do the same." She softened. "Harry, dear, you are still only a boy who has just turned seventeen. You're not ready...you're not..." she trailed off, blinking furiously to try and stop her tears.

"I am," Harry replied, "and I am not going straight for him. There are some things I need to do first."

"What are you planning?" Mrs. Weasley asked desperately.

"We've got to find him, for one," Hermione answered. "No one knows where he is or what his plans are."

Harry shot Hermione a look of thanks. "She's right," he said.

"Please, Harry," Molly pleaded. "Ron, Hermione...please. Don't do this."

"We've got to, Mum," Ron said, and Harry and Hermione nodded.

"What about me?" Ginny said scathingly. "I'll just sit at school like a good little girl, shall I?"

"Ginny, I need you at the school," Harry said. "I need you to lead the D.A. I need you to keep an eye on things there for me, because I doubt it will be long before Hogwarts is attacked now that...now that Dumbledore's gone."

"That's not good enough, Harry!" Ginny cried. "I want to be with you, to help you! I need you, too!"

"Ginevra, you will be returning to school," snapped Molly, determined that she would exercise her one last bit of parental authority to keep her daughter as safe as possible.

"I won't!" Ginny replied obstinately. "I'll follow you! I'll run away!"

"You won't run," Harry said before Mrs. Weasley could start shouting. "You won't because you know what I say is true. You know I need you to be there, to be strong. You won't be alone, Ginny."

"You're not going, Ginevra," Mrs. Weasley repeated. "That is my _final_ word. You are still my child, and I'll not have you..."

"Mum!" Ginny protested, beginning to sob with frustration. Once again, she could sense that she was not going to win, and all she could think about was the fact that Harry might not return.

"I'm sorry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said a little more kindly. "But it's not your time...not yet...and I hope, not ever."

"I'll do the best I can to ensure that," Harry said, looking directly into Mrs. Weasley's eyes. "I promise you I will."

"You shouldn't have to," Mrs. Weasley whispered, sounding old and defeated. "But I know you will."

Without another word, she turned and left the room. Harry immediately went to Ginny, who stiffened as he put his arms around her. Signaling to Ron and Hermione that he wanted time alone with her, he led her to the bed, sitting down on the edge and continuing to hold her even though she did not return the gesture.

"I can't believe you're really going to leave me behind, Harry," Ginny finally whispered after everyone else had left the room. "You're letting Ron and Hermione go; why not me?"

Harry searched for the right words, knowing that if he did not find them, Ginny would likely attempt to follow them no matter what her parents said.

"Ginny...it's not that I don't want you with me. It's not that, and it never will be," Harry began, noticing that Ginny relaxed against him just the tiniest bit as he said it. "But there are just too many things...your mum, the fact that you can't do magic outside school, the fact that it might keep you from being a Healer in the end..."

"None of that matters, Harry," Ginny said. "Nothing matters as much as winning the war, nothing matters as much as being with you." She did not yet voice her worst fear, though it was at the forefront of her mind. If Harry had used Legilimency at that moment, he would have seen it as clearly as Tofty had seen her Boggart during her OWL test.

"How's the Ministry going to notice I'm doing magic if I'm with you?" she asked quietly. "They can't tell who did it, just that it had been done."

"We can't risk anything that could draw the Ministry's attention to us," Harry said firmly, glad, at least, that he could give a strong answer to that question. "We can't trust them, not when we don't know if they are all on our side."

"Mum would come around," Ginny stated her next argument. "It's not like she would disown me or anything. She knows how important it is for you to have loved ones around you."

"I don't know if she would or not," Harry said honestly. "But Ginny, you just got to the middle of the matter, didn't you? I need the people I love," his voice cracked a bit, "to be safe. I need to know you're as safe as you can be, because I'm going to need you before the end."

"What do you mean?" Ginny relaxed a little more as she asked him this, finding it hard to resist the warmth of his arms and body surrounding hers.

"Ginny, I could never take Voldemort on without you. I still don't know exactly how I'm going to do it, but I do know that much already. And if something happens to you..." He shuddered at the thought and fell silent for a moment before continuing, "If something happens to you, I don't know if I could go on. I don't know if I could fight him, and I'm sure I couldn't win. For now, until it's time, I need you safe. I've got to know you're as safe as you can be, and you and I both know that's at Hogwarts."

At these words, Ginny finally relaxed completely, wrapping her arms around Harry and leaning her head into the hollow at the base of Harry's neck.

"There's another thing, too, Ginny," Harry continued, tracing his fingers in small circles on her back. "Remember what you said to me before school ended, about our future?" He felt her nod. "You told me once that you'd always wanted to be a Healer. I want that for you, and for it, you need your classes. You know you do. When we finally finish this and our lives begin, I want you to have every dream you've ever wanted...I want you to be a Healer, and I want you to have your home, your family...everything."

"What about you?" Ginny asked.

"I still want to be an Auror," Harry said, smiling slightly. "But if I do manage to pull this off, I don't think they're going to require NEWTs for me to get into the program, are they?"

Ginny giggled a bit in spite of herself. "I'd hope not," she admitted, but then grew serious again as she asked, "But Harry, why are you letting Ron and Hermione go?"

"I didn't want them to originally," Harry admitted, "but I can't do this part of it without them. Besides, they are of age, and no one's going to have any grounds to stop them if they want to follow me."

"You need them, but you don't need me," Ginny stated, pulling away from him. "You don't trust me like you trust them."

"No, Ginny," Harry said firmly. "Don't think like that. When the time comes, I want you at my side. I'll need you even more than the other two, but I told you before, I need you at school right now. I wasn't kidding about that. The D.A. has to continue. It's serious now; it may be Hogwarts' last line of defense if it's attacked. You can keep training them, and Tonks and some of the others can help you if you want them to. And you need to take your classes so you can be a Healer after school."

After a few very tense moments, Ginny finally nodded her head in acceptance, partly because of Harry's admission that he would need her to fight with him in the end. She knew a lot of this came because he was trying to shield her as long as he could, but she could also find the sense in his words.

"Thank you, Ginny," Harry murmured, kissing the top of her head before raising her chin up so he could kiss her lips.

Mrs. Weasley called for them to go to lunch a few minutes later, and they broke apart. A new understanding seemed to have come between them as they joined hands and went downstairs to the kitchen, for they had resolved without words to enjoy every moment that they could enjoy together before the time came all too soon for Harry to go.

* * *

True to their unspoken agreement, Harry and Ginny spent as much time together as possible before August 31, and where you found one of them, you would almost invariably find the other.

Most of their time was spent in the company of Ron and Hermione, poring over the books from the Black family library and Dumbledore's notes, trying to find any clues to the location of Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup, and looking over historical accounts of the four founders, trying to figure out which items Voldemort might have chosen to house two pieces of his soul. Each one seemed as unlikely as the next, and frustration was starting to cause them to be a little punchy.

Very early one morning, after having stayed up most of the night talking and researching, they were giggling over the possibility that Voldemort might have used one of Rowena Ravenclaw's brassieres, which were rumored to have been enchanted to enhance her beauty. Mr. Weasley poked his head into the room just as Ron was pantomiming Voldemort donning the garment in order to perform the spell, and his face was more serious than they had seen it since Harry's birthday. All four of them abruptly stopped laughing.

"Hello, you four," he said. "Have any of you seen Molly? I need her, please, I need her." His voice, as it had been for almost a month, was a strange mixture of adult timbre and childlike tone, but there was nothing amusing about it just now; he seemed as though he was about to cry.

"No, we haven't seen her yet," Ginny said, looking at her father critically. "Dad? You can come in. You look like you might need to sit down." She opened the door fully to reveal Mr. Weasley, still dressed in his maroon bathrobe, one of his feet slippered and the other bare.

All four teenagers looked worried as Ginny took her father by the elbow, leading him to one of the armchairs near the fire. In his left hand, he clutched a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , but it was too crumpled for them to tell what it said.

When she had gotten her father settled into one of the chairs, Ginny crouched down to look into his face, just as if he had been a small child to whom she wanted to give her full attention. "Dad?" she asked, her voice laced with the same note of concern that they often heard from her mother. "What's happened?"

"Molly," he muttered. "I need Molly, please."

"Hermione?" Ginny asked quietly without looking up. "Could you please find Mum?"

Without a word, Hermione hurried out of the room in search of Mrs. Weasley. They knew she would not have left the house without telling them first, but Grimmauld Place had many rooms, and it was hard to tell where Mrs. Weasley might be doing housework or working on something for the Order.

Ginny touched her father's cheek with such tenderness that Harry was suddenly hit with a fierce bolt of pride and love even stronger than that which he already felt. _She'll make a great Healer_ , he thought as he continued to watch her smooth her father's hair and talk to him in the same soft and calming voice. _If I can just..._

"Harry, I need you to come over here," Ginny said softly, her face having gone incredibly pale. "You too, Ron. Quickly, please."

She had gently pried the crumpled _Prophet_ from Mr. Weasley's hands as she spoke to him, and it was evident that only her desire not to alarm him was keeping her from crying out for her mother as loudly as she could.

**DEMENTORS ATTACK DIAGON ALLEY**

_At approximately one o'clock this morning, the popular Wizarding marketplace known as Diagon Alley was attacked by no fewer than fifty Dementors. The creatures, which used to guard the Azkaban fortress..._

"Diagon Alley was attacked again?" Harry asked in horror.

Ron suddenly dashed out of the room without a word of explanation, his face as chalky white as Ginny's, his freckles standing out in sharp relief.

"He's gone to look at the clock," Ginny said in understanding. "No, don't, Dad...it's OK..." she crooned to Mr. Weasley as he started to cry. "Hermione's gone to find Mum. Everything is going to be just fine, you'll see."

Neither Harry nor Ginny was certain of that anymore, but the words seemed to calm Mr. Weasley somewhat. Harry thought he had seen few more pitiful sights than this once-strong wizard so overcome by emotions and helpless to do anything about the events occurring. He had been coming more and more to himself over the past week, but he still had a long way to go before he could even return to his job at the Ministry.

They didn't have long to wait. Only another minute or so had passed before Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room. "I just heard, and I would have kept the paper from him if I'd been able to. Dratted delivery owls still don't remember that they are to deliver to me now. Darling," she soothed as she reached Arthur, "everything is fine. I've spoken to George and Percy and they weren't harmed."

"Thank Merlin," Arthur said quietly, sounding just like the man they all remembered from before the battle. "I was so worried."

"I just checked the clock," Ron announced as he came back into the room. "It says - Oh, hi, Mum."

"Yes, everyone made it through," Lupin announced as he entered the room, removing his traveling cloak and hanging it. "The Aurors were able to drive them away with the help of some of the shop owners, George and Percy included."

Without thinking, Mrs. Weasley sank onto her husband's lap as she thought about what could have happened to two of her sons.

"Where have you been?" Harry asked Lupin with interest. He had tried to contact him via the amulet the night before, intent upon finally asking some questions which had been burning into him ever since Aunt Petunia had gone, but Lupin had not answered.

"Out and about," Lupin answered evasively, giving Harry a meaningful look. "I've been trying to find Mundungus Fletcher."

"Pop!" Mr. Weasley said suddenly. "Disapparated, didn't he?"

Everyone turned to look at him; this was the first time they had heard him talk about the night the battle had taken place. It was common knowledge that Mundungus had Disapparated almost the moment the Dark Mark had been cast because Mr. Weasley had told Shacklebolt about it as they had entered the battle. Since he had been hit with the curse that night, however, Arthur had not mentioned the battle or anything leading up to it.

"Yes, dear, he Disapparated," Mrs. Weasley agreed.

"Not much trace of him, if any," Lupin continued.

"He'll turn up," Molly said grimly. "He'll come around when things get hard for him; he always does."

"Coward," Mr. Weasley muttered. "He's not very brave, is he?"

"You could bloody well say that," Ron said fiercely, for he, as well as Harry, Hermione and Ginny, knew how urgent it was that they find him. They had to find out if he knew where Slytherin's locket was before it made its way back into the wrong hands.

While the rest of the occupants in the room discussed the Dementor attack in increasingly worried tones, Harry caught Lupin's eye and jerked his head towards the doorway. Lupin, understanding that Harry needed to talk to him privately, followed him out of the bedroom door and down the hall to the library.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Lupin said immediately after the door had closed behind him. "I know you've wanted to talk to me."

"What happened to my mother's parents?" Harry asked without preamble. "How come no one ever told me that Voldemort killed them as well?"

"Petunia told you that, did she?" Lupin asked with a trace of bitterness in his voice.

"Yes," Harry said, "but she can't have been the only one who knew."

"Of course not, Harry," Lupin said tiredly, "but none of the Order members could ever know beyond doubt what had happened to them, for Petunia had had them buried before she ever bothered to contact your mother, and Lily was devastated. She and James were in hiding by then, so they had not had any news either, but we had no indication that Voldemort even knew who your mother's parents were, much less where."

"There had to be a way to know," Harry argued.

"There were traces of magic on the Evans' house, of course, but those could also have been from Lily's most recent visit just after you were born. Without being able to see or examine their bodies, we just couldn't know for sure. Petunia was not there when they died, but she's always been certain it had something to do with the Wizarding world, even though the Muggle doctors said that they died naturally. That's part of the reason she hates us so much."

"So how come no one ever told me?" Harry asked, still incensed. "Even if you don't know for sure, don't you think I have a right to know what you know?"

"I don't know, Harry," Lupin answered. "Of course you have a right to know about your family, but since we didn't even know for sure, we just...we didn't want..."

"To upset me?" Harry suggested icily.

"It was a mistake," Lupin admitted. "I should have realized Petunia would say something to you eventually. For what it is worth, though, we honestly do not believe that Voldemort had anything to do with their deaths."

Harry considered for a moment and then nodded grudgingly. "You should have told me," was all he said in conclusion.

"Yes, Harry, I should have," Lupin replied. "I'm sorry."

"Alright, then," Harry said. They didn't have time to argue about things that had happened in the past, and he knew it. "Did you find anything about Mundungus Fletcher?"

"I'm afraid not," Lupin said regretfully. "One thing about Dung is that he's right good at getting underground when he's in trouble. He knows we'll have a thing or two to say to him after what happened on Privet Drive, and he's not looking forward to it."

"Mrs. Weasley thinks he'll turn up," Harry said. "But how long will it take?"

Lupin sighed. "There's no telling," he said wearily. "He could pop up today, or it could be weeks or even months. She's right - he'll come when he's either out of money or in some sort of trouble that he reckons is worse than what we'll do to him for deserting Arthur in battle."

"We have to find him first," Harry said definitely. "We can't wait on this, Moony."

"I know, Harry," Lupin replied. "I'll keep looking, ok? In the meantime, what are you going to do about school?"

"I'm not going to go back," Harry said simply. "There's no time."

Lupin nodded. "I should argue with you," he said. "But you're right. What about the others?"

"Ron and Hermione are coming with me."

"What about Ginny?" Lupin asked. "It doesn't seem as though she'd agree to stay behind."

"She said she understood," said Harry uncertainly. "But I'm not sure yet."

"If I could make a suggestion," Lupin began.

Harry nodded.

"Ride the train with Ginny to Hogwarts. You'll need to talk to Aberforth Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall before you set out anyway, and that might make Ginny feel a bit better."

"It also might not be so bad to be seen on the train," Harry mused, liking the idea. As certain as he was that Ginny needed to go back to school, he did not like the idea of being parted from her any more than she did.

"Don't make the mistake of thinking that the Death Eaters will believe you've gone back to school," Lupin warned. "That will only work for the duration of the train ride. Once the students realize you won't be joining them in classes, word will spread like wildfire."

"Especially the Slytherins," Harry muttered.

"Still, however, taking the train to school will likely do no harm. I'll arrange for you to stay at the Hog's Head if you'd like."

Harry nodded. "Thanks," he said. Seeing Aberforth and Professor McGonagall before he set off was a sound idea, and he might be able to pick up clues to Mundungus Fletcher's whereabouts in the Hog's Head, which attracted some of the more questionable members of the Wizarding community. A sudden thought entered his head. "Where will you be during all of this, Moony?"

"I'm still working underground like I was last year," Lupin replied. "Trying to recruit more of my kind into the Order, but it's not going so well."

"Have you gotten anyone?" Harry asked curiously. From what he had heard, most werewolves did not feel friendly toward the Wizarding community due to laws and regulations passed by ministry officials like Dolores Umbridge.

"There are a few of my kind who have lost family members or friends to the Death Eaters," Lupin responded. "But other than that, most of them seem to think we are more likely to regain our rights by fighting on Voldemort's side."

"No one will have any rights under Voldemort," Harry said bitterly. "Surely they realize that."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple, Harry," Lupin said seriously. "It is quite possible that part-humans like werewolves and vampires will have considerably more freedom under Voldemort's reign than under the current Ministry."

"Only if they serve _him_ ," Harry spat.

"Harry, don't you understand? Most of them will be serving him simply by allowing themselves to live by their own natures. Werewolves and vampires, especially those who make no effort to restrain themselves from preying on humans, cause fear even in the bravest of wizards. Whether or not the werewolf or vampire is actually working under Voldemort's command, he or she is still doing exactly what he wants them to do."

Harry was silent for a moment as he mulled this over. "Moony," he asked slowly, "are you saying that _your_ life would be better under Voldemort's reign?"

"No, Harry," Lupin replied very seriously. "My life will be better when the laws are changed, but never, ever would I consider it better to live under a ruler such as Voldemort. To live in fear is only an existence; it is not a life."

"Thanks, Moony," Harry said sincerely, and they exchanged a rough, one-armed hug before Harry returned to the others and Lupin left in time for an interview with a young werewolf in Devonshire.

* * *

The night of August 31 was almost surreal in its simplicity, as the only one packing to go to school was Ginny, who was doing so only after another heated argument with her mother. The usual din caused by missing items, unmatched socks, and torn robes was replaced by an almost unnatural quiet as Ginny packed alone in her room, not even allowing Harry to keep her company.

Ginny had seemed glad when Harry told her that he would be riding the train with her and would be staying in Hogsmeade for a few days after start-of-term, but she hadn't let that stop her from pleading with him one more time to intervene on her behalf with Molly. When he had refused, she had retreated into her room, muttering sullenly that she had to get packed.

Ron and Hermione had decided to stay at Grimmauld Place while Harry went to Hogwarts in order to continue searching the house and the Black family library for information on the horcruxes. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to return to the Burrow now that Mr. Weasley was recovering and was no longer under Madam Pomfrey's care. They wanted to strengthen the wards around the house; the idea of something happening to it was horrible to both of them. Ron and Hermione knew they'd have much more freedom to search away from Mrs. Weasley's piercing gaze.

After a grudging kiss goodnight from Ginny, Harry settled into his room to try to sleep. A huge weight was bearing down on his chest, the weight of the knowledge that he would never again return to Hogwarts as a student and of the fact that Ginny did not seem to be ready to forgive him for not allowing her to accompany him on his search for the horcruxes. Hedwig flew from her perch on top of the chest of drawers in the corner and alighted on his shoulder, sensing that he needed some company.

"Everything's changing, Hedwig," Harry murmured, stroking the downy feathers on her chest softly. "I hope I'm doing the right thing."

As he fell into an uncomfortable sleep, Harry could not be sure that he was.


	5. She Will Not Be Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny agreed to stay at Hogwarts while Harry went to search for the Horcruxes. Now that she's had time to think about it, will she change her mind? Staying with Aberforth and meeting the Dumbledore house-elf, Harry has a lot on his mind as he gears up to finally begin his quest.

Early on the morning of September first, Harry sat bolt upright in bed, having been awoken by the sound of shrill shouting directly outside his bedroom door.

"Ginevra Weasley! For the last time, you _will_ be returning to Hogwarts, young lady! One more word and it will not be Harry who accompanies you on the train, but your father and myself! If I can't trust you to be..."

"A good little girl?" Ginny interrupted coldly. "I have news for you, Mum. I'm not a little girl, and I'm tired of being good!"

"That does not change the fact that you are still my child and you are still under my authority!" Mrs. Weasley shouted. "Now go get your trunk this instant, and -"

"Good morning, Harry," Ginny interrupted as her bleary-eyed boyfriend poked his head out of the door into the hallway. "We didn't wake you, did we?" she asked semi-sarcastically, and even through his early-morning haze Harry could tell that she was still not happy with him.

"Erm..." Harry said sleepily, straightening his glasses.

"Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, her tone calmer though she was obviously putting in a lot of effort to hold her temper. "Are you all packed for your stay in Hogsmeade?"

Harry nodded. In the last few days of the holiday, Mrs. Weasley had seemed to accept the fact that Harry, Ron and Hermione would not be returning to school, if only because she appreciated the fact that Harry was not trying to take Ginny with him against her wishes. At various times, she had tried to plead with them, but as she knew she had no authority to stop them going, even that had diminished.

"Mum," Ginny said, hoping that Harry's presence might keep her mother from continuing to shout. "Harry's going to need me to help - "

"Ginevra," Mrs. Weasley responded in an icy tone that was even more dangerous than her shouting, "You just keep at this, young lady, and I will see to it that you are not allowed out of that castle until Christmas."

Ginny gasped. Of all the threats her mother had made over the past two weeks, this one was by far the worst, and she knew her mother well enough to know that she would actually carry it out if provoked. She looked at Harry desperately.

"Are they going to allow Hogsmeade visits this term?" Harry asked, stifling a yawn. He had rather thought they wouldn't.

Ginny nodded. "There was a note sent out to all the parents requiring that everyone have new permission forms this year, though. And it looks like curfew will be much earlier, and we will be restricted to the main road so they can construct wards more easily."

"I still have half a mind not to sign your form," Mrs. Weasley muttered. "Imagine, letting students out of the castle when - "

"Mum!" Ginny cried, stamping her foot.

"The main road of Hogsmeade is much smaller than Hogwarts itself," Harry pointed out, knowing that this argument was going nowhere fast. "The students should be safe enough within the confines of the wards, and I'm sure they'll have all sorts of Aurors and other people guarding them."

Mrs. Weasley sighed, but tried to recover her previous sternness. "I have not refused to sign your form, Ginny," she said, "but make no mistake that I will if I believe you cannot be trusted to remain at school."

"C'mon, Ginny," Harry said softly.

"Fine," Ginny said even as furious tears began to trickle down her cheeks. Without another word to either of them, she turned her back and stalked down the hall to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her with enough force to cause dust to fall from the ceiling.

"Thank you, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said softly.

"Please don't thank me, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied, gazing after Ginny wistfully. The feelings he had had the night before and the uncertainty that he was doing the right thing all rushed back to him when he heard Ginny sobbing as she banged her trunk closed and put a protesting Bono into his cage for the ride to school.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Anyone who observed the group headed to King's Cross the next day would have thought they were headed to a particularly sad funeral. It seemed as though half of the Order as well as the teenaged inhabitants of Headquarters had turned out to see Ginny off to the station. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry walked slowly in the middle of a revolving group of adult wizards and witches all clad in various states of Muggle dress. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, George, Percy, Bill, Charlie and Fleur Delacour were all in a state of high alert, each of them keeping one hand closed tightly around his or her carefully concealed wand.

Arthur seemed to be especially worried, looking around nervously and shooting increasingly bewildered looks at all of them as they walked. He had insisted upon coming to see his daughter off to school, and it was the first time he had gone out in public for a month. Harry noticed that Mrs. Weasley carefully kept her body in front of his, trying to seem unobtrusive about it, and he could understand why. If there was any sort of attack, Mr. Weasley would likely be more of a liability than an asset, but no one had been able to find the words to refuse his request.

Upon reaching the station and passing through the barrier to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Harry and Ginny found themselves to be the center of a lot of attention both from their group and from the students returning to school. Harry wasn't sure if he was remembering incorrectly or if the crowd on the platform was rather larger than usual; he had expected many students to be kept at home by their parents.

"Harry! You're coming back to school, then?" Neville asked, coming over to their group with his grandmother close behind him.

Harry nodded, not wanting to discuss his plans on a platform full of bustling and anxious witches and wizards, and hoping that no one would think anything of the fact that he was carrying the pack Ron, Hermione and Ginny had given him for his birthday rather than lugging his trunk.

"Molly, I'm so sorry for your trouble," Augusta Longbottom, Neville's grandmother, commented, silently noticing Mr. Weasley's bemused expression as he surveyed the crowd. He reminded her painfully of her own son's condition after he had been tortured by the Cruciatus Curse in the first war.

"He's coming right along, aren't you, dear?" Molly responded, patting Arthur on the arm distractedly as she continually scanned the crowd for any sign of trouble.

"I shall be accompanying Neville on the train to school," Mrs. Longbottom proclaimed with the air of one who was making a great sacrifice for the sake of someone she loved. "Will you be coming along, Molly?" Behind her back, Neville rolled his eyes at Harry, who barely suppressed a chuckle.

Molly looked startled, and it could not have been clearer that she had not actually considered the idea of accompanying Ginny to school herself.

"It's OK, Mum," Ginny said quickly. "Harry's with me and there will be loads of adults on the train." She indicated the busy platform, and Harry noticed for the first time that there were many parents following their children onto the train. He wondered how the Hogwarts Express would fit all of them when it always seemed crowded with just the students.

"Perhaps we should - " Mrs. Weasley began, biting her lip.

"Do you think that would be the best thing for Dad?" Ginny asked, willing her voice to stay calm. Truth be told, she was tired of rowing with her mother and, now that the time had truly come to part from her parents, she didn't want to leave on an ugly note. However, this sentiment was not quite enough for Ginny to want her parents on the train with her. She wanted to spend time with Harry.

Molly glanced at Arthur, who was bouncing onto the balls of his feet, his eyes wide, and then back at Harry and Ginny, who were staring at her, determination and maturity glistening in both of their eyes. Finally, she nodded.

Quite suddenly, Ginny released her hold on Harry's hand and flew forward into her mother's arms. Ron, who had just rejoined the group after an awkward conversation with Luna Lovegood and her father, raised his eyebrows until they almost disappeared into his carrot-colored fringe, and Hermione took his hand as she grinned broadly at the sight.

Ron nudged Harry. "Reckon she's not mad anymore?" he whispered loudly.

Watching as Ginny moved around the group, exchanging tight hugs with her father and each of her brothers, Harry thought for a moment. "No," he answered very seriously. "I think it's just that she doesn't want to leave any of them on a bad note...too much has happened, and sometimes quarrels just don't seem as important, you know?"

Just then, the scarlet steam engine blew a long, shrill note as a warning of imminent departure from the platform. Hurriedly, Harry hugged Mrs. Weasley and shook hands with everyone else. Just as he had turned to get on the train, Lupin grabbed his arm and held him back for just a moment.

"Aberforth is expecting you tonight, Harry," he said seriously. "He'll have a room ready for you, but I want you to use your Invisibility Cloak as much as possible in Hogsmeade. There is no reason to invite trouble this early on."

"I know," Harry replied just as solemnly. Now that he was about to begin his quest in earnest, he felt more unsure of himself than ever. He reached his hand out to shake Lupin's, but his guardian surprised him by pulling him into a real hug, rather than their usual one-armed embrace.

"I'll be with you whenever I can, Harry," Lupin told him. "And I want you to keep your amulet on you, and don't forget about the connection between your wand and those of the rest of the Order. It will come in useful in times of need."

Harry nodded and freed himself from his guardian's embrace, only to be nearly swallowed by one of Molly's.

"Are you sure you have to do this, Harry?" she asked anxiously, peering into his eyes after she had finished hugging him. "I'll send your school things along; it is not too late to change your mind."

"I'm sure, Mrs. Weasley," Harry responded. "But thank you."

Her eyes filled with tears. "See her safely to school," she whispered so that Ginny would not hear. "And no matter what happens, you come back safe to me, do you understand? _You come back safe to me_."

Harry gulped and quickly tore his eyes away from hers. "I've got to get on the train," he muttered. "I'll see you all soon." As he shouldered his pack and followed Ginny onto the carriage, he felt as though all the weight of the world was now resting directly on his shoulders.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Harry soon found the answer to his question about the size of the train. Apparently, the carriages had been charmed to be much larger on the inside than the outside, much like the Ministry cars they had ridden to the station in before his third year. There were at least twice as many compartments in each one, and the compartments themselves had been expanded to hold at least eight people apiece.

Despite the number of parents on the train, however, it appeared that whoever had expanded it had been a bit overzealous, or had overestimated the number of students going back to Hogwarts at all. Harry and Ginny had no trouble finding a compartment to themselves, and they quickly stowed their things in the overhead compartments before Ginny had to go up to the Prefect's carriage for their traditional start-of-term meeting.

Left alone, Harry stared out the window of the compartment as the train worked its way out of London and north into the countryside. _This_ _might be_ _the last time I will ever ride the Hogwarts Express_ , he realized with a pang. _And even now, I really shouldn't be here, should I_?

"Hello, Harry," said a dreamy voice from the door to his compartment, and Harry turned, grinning slightly, to see Luna Lovegood leaning casually against the door, looking around at the empty compartment.

"Hi, Luna," Harry answered. "How was your summer?"

"Not very nice, you know," Luna answered vaguely. "It's a bit hard to go on holiday when dementors keep turning up everywhere, isn't it?"

Harry nodded, not exactly sure how to respond to such a blatantly obvious statement; everyone knew that dementor attacks had been rising alarmingly. Luna didn't seem to mind, though, and she took a seat across from Harry, joining him in staring out the window. Neither of them spoke for quite some time.

"The prefects are all very confused," Luna suddenly said. "I heard them arguing from outside the compartment."

This was a little startling, and Harry turned to her. "What's wrong with the prefects?" he asked sharply.

"Well, Draco Malfoy isn't one any more, is he?" she asked. "So they got Blaise Zabini, only I don't think Ernie Macmillan likes him very much, and as Ernie is Head Boy..." she trailed off, fingering her butterbeer-cork necklace as she stared dreamily out the window.

Harry's mind gave a jolt. He'd not given a thought to the normal start-of-term business this year. If Ernie was Head Boy, then who was Head Girl? He could only think of one female prefect who could have been chosen...

"Where is Hermione?" Luna asked conversationally, as though the answer was of no consequence to her. "She really should have come onto the train. It's quite rude of her to go to school any other way when she's got Head Girl duties to do."

Harry's heart sank. Why hadn't he thought of that? It was so _obvious_ , and Hermione must have known. Was this why she had looked sad, almost wistful, the last part of the holiday, try as she would to hide it?

"How is she getting to school?" Luna asked lightly. "Did she take a flying carpet or the Knight Bus?"

Harry was stumped. He really hadn't been planning on letting anyone know that he, Ron and Hermione were not going back to school directly, because he hadn't wanted to have to explain. He was spared from having to figure out what to say, however, when Ginny came in.

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, throwing herself on the seat beside him. "Oh, hi, Luna," she said, noticing the blonde Ravenclaw for the first time.

"Everything OK?" Harry asked, wishing Luna would leave the compartment so he could talk to Ginny in privacy.

"Luna, would you excuse us for a minute?" Ginny asked, almost as if she had read Harry's mind.

"Sure," Luna said dreamily, drifting out of the compartment without a glance back. Rolling her eyes, Ginny got up and shut the compartment door.

"So Hermione was supposed to be Head Girl?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Ginny answered, "but it's not like we didn't know she would be, is it?"

There was really no way to argue this point. The only reason Harry hadn't realized that she would be was that he had been so focused on the horcruxes that he hadn't even considered it. He felt a stab of sorrow for his friend; Hermione had aspired to be Head Girl since the first day of her first year in school.

"Hermione should come to school," he said finally. "She can't give this up."

"She already had a chance to make that decision for herself," Ginny said, looking down at her hands. "She wanted to be with you, to help you. It was her decision."

"I know, but - "

"But nothing, Harry," Ginny said, and then she paused while she collected her thoughts. "You know, when you first told me I couldn't come, I was so hurt. I don't think you've ever said anything that hurt me so much."

"Ginny, I - "

"Just let me finish, Harry," Ginny said, looking away from him. "Then you explained it to me, and you were so...so _sincere_ about it that I couldn't help agreeing with you. But you know what? I'm not sure I do anymore."

"But - "

"Stop interrupting me," Ginny continued rather harshly. "Harry, I love you. You know that."

"I love you, too."

"I know you do," she replied, smiling a little for the first time. "It's just that while I was with the prefects, I realized something." She paused.

"What did you realize?" Harry asked curiously.

"Ron's not there and Hermione's not there. Draco Malfoy is dead. Padma Patil's parents didn't let her and Parvati come back, and no one knows who is replacing whom, besides Zabini for Malfoy. Out of eight new fifth-year prefects that should have been there, there were only five that came and a couple from my year didn't either." She stopped.

"We knew a lot of people wouldn't be allowed to come back," Harry pointed out. "This was happening last year as well, remember?"

"I know that, Harry," Ginny said impatiently. "It's just that Voldemort caused all these people to go into hiding. They're afraid to go out of their homes, and they're even afraid to send their children to school now that Dumbledore's gone. He's killed too many people for anyone to feel safe."

"I know all that, Ginny," Harry replied.

"I don't want to hide," Ginny continued. "And that's what I'm doing by coming back to Hogwarts when you, Ron and Hermione are going to look for Voldemort, to finish him. And you said yourself that you're going to need me more than you need anyone else."

"Ginny, I - "

"This last couple of weeks, I've been so angry, mostly at Mum because I knew if she'd consent then you would want me to come, no matter what you say about everything else. That's the real problem here, Harry. You don't want to cross my mother."

"That's not - "

"I know, you fancy that you're keeping me safe as well," Ginny said, and her voice began to grow louder. "But you're not! No one is safe, no matter where they are, until this war is over. Even Hogwarts is not impenetrable, and you know that. Voldemort will be more than a match for the wards." She stopped and took a deep breath.

"Ginny - "

"I'm coming with you," she said, staring straight at him for the first time. "It's the right thing; you know it is."

"Ginny, I don't - "

"Don't you dare say you don't want me with you," Ginny warned, her voice dangerous even as it wavered with emotion.

"It's not - "

"Not what? Not that you don't want me, just that my precious little self is better off with the other little boys and girls at Hogwarts?"

Harry stared at her. She was becoming angry, and this time it wasn't at her mother - it was at him. He wouldn't have been surprised at that moment if she had actually pulled her wand on him.

"I'll go back to Hogwarts while you're staying at Hogsmeade," Ginny said. "No reason to get Mum's knickers in a twist until you're leaving, but when you leave, I go, too. That's final, Harry Potter."

Harry, not knowing how to handle this situation, finally just nodded. He saw now that he would never have been able to stop her any more than he could have stopped Ron and Hermione.

"What about being a Healer?" he asked.

"What about it?" Ginny replied unflinchingly. "I talked with Hermione about this, and she says we can - "

It was Harry's turn to interrupt. "You talked to Hermione about this?"

"Yeah," Ginny said. "She's not quite as thick as you and Ronald are sometimes, and she figured out what I was going to do before I even did."

Harry couldn't help feeling a little annoyed with Hermione. If she was so quick at catching onto things, he felt that she should have told him.

Despite all of that, though, Harry couldn't help but smile a bit. He really hadn't wanted to leave Ginny behind, and though he was still worried about all the reasons she _shouldn't_ come along, he felt not just the slightest bit relieved that she had taken the decision out of his hands.

He looked across the compartment at her. She was staring pensively out the window, her face still somewhat set in its defiant expression as she watched the fields and farms flash by. _She's so beautiful_ , he thought. _But what if something happens? What if she gets hurt? Mrs. Weasley will never forgive me...I can't let anything happen to her._

"Ginny - " he began.

Quicker than a flash, she turned once again to stare him straight in the eye. "Don't even think about it," she said softly, before wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his neck. "I'm with you, always," she whispered.

They sat this way for some time, breaking apart only when they received visits from Neville and Dean, who told them that Seamus was not being allowed to return to Hogwarts, and a few other students, all of whom wanted to know where Hermione and Ron had got off to and whether they were returning to school.

Harry felt another painful stab as they pulled into Hogsmeade station. He had changed into his black school robes like everyone else, but he had only done so in order to remain unobtrusive until the others were off at school.

"First years!" called a brisk voice from the head of the train. "First years, this way, please!"

Harry blinked furiously, his throat constricting, as he heard Professor Grubbly-Plank ushering the small group of first years towards the lake and the waiting boats. Harry had never been able to imagine Hogwarts without Hagrid, who had been his first friend and contact with the Wizarding world.

"Harry!" gasped Ginny from next to him. "Are these...thestrals?"

He turned to her. _Of course she would be able to see them now_ , he thought, putting one arm over her shoulder. "Yeah," he answered. "These are thestrals."

"They're really...erm... _strange_ ," Ginny said uncertainly, not sure of the exact word she should use to describe the beasts.

Harry nodded again, and then pulled her behind the last carriage, where he hugged her fiercely and kissed her. "You've got to go for now," he told her, half afraid she would insist upon coming with him at that very moment. To his relief, however, she just nodded. He knew she was going to have a rough night of it, having to answer everyone's questions about his, Ron's and Hermione's whereabouts. "I'll be at the Hog's Head with Aberforth," he reminded her as he helped her onto the last carriage. "Send Bono with a message for me anytime; it won't take him more than ten minutes to get there. And I'll be coming up to Hogwarts soon to talk to Professor McGonagall."

Ginny nodded. "Now you'd better go," she said in a strangely tight voice. "If you don't want people realizing you're not here right away, you need to disappear before the carriages leave."

Harry nodded, kissed her quickly, and then stepped once again behind the carriage to put on his Invisibility Cloak.

Ginny's whisper carried through the night air around the carriages. "Harry? Promise me you won't leave without me? I want you to promise."

Harry hesitated for the merest fraction of a second before he walked, invisible, to the door of her carriage. "I promise," he said softly. "I won't leave you behind."

As he heard the carriages begin to rattle their way towards the school, he swallowed hard but turned around determinedly and walked toward the end of the main road, feeling with every step that his journey had finally begun.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

As they had arranged before his arrival, Harry walked carefully between the patrons of the Hog's Head Pub towards the bar, behind which Aberforth was wiping dusty bottles with a very dirty rag. Harry grinned slightly as he came into view: what would the patrons of the pub think if they saw the beautiful garden carefully concealed behind this very building? When he reached the bar, Harry looked around and then carefully reached into his pocket, pulling out one gold Galleon, one silver Sickle and two bronze Knuts, placing them quietly on the counter and waiting for Aberforth to notice them.

The old barman was obviously on the watch; Harry had been sitting in his place, covered carefully by the cloak, for only a few moments before Aberforth saw the planned amount of money and, on the pretense of leaning over the bar to take it, whispered, "Glad you've made it safely, Harry."

Harry chuckled softly; Aberforth was looking away from him. "I'm over here," he whispered.

"Ba'man!" called a rough voice in the middle of the pub. "I nee' s'more whisky, since ya don' seem ta notice, an' if my sickles ain't good enough fer ya, I'll jus' go on down to th' Three Broomsticks, won't I?" It was obvious that the owner of the voice had had more than a few drinks already.

Aberforth fixed his face into the grumpy-looking grimace that he was famous for at the pub and turned slowly around to face the complainer. "Dry up, Fernie," he said roughly, seizing a dirty bottle from the row behind the bar. "You haven't been allowed at the Broomsticks for years; everyone knows that."

Harry choked back a laugh. Now that he knew the "real" Aberforth Dumbledore, the way the old man was able to play the act of the surly barman amused him even through the anxiety he was feeling about his quest. As Aberforth poured the brown liquid into a glass that was as dirty as the bottle in his gnarled hand, he turned his head almost imperceptibly and winked at Harry.

Harry's stomach began to growl as he kept his place on the tall wooden barstool, holding his Invisibility Cloak tightly around him and listening to the odd snatches of conversation from the bar. He had known since his fifth year that the Hog's Head attracted the more dodgy members of wizarding society, and now that he knew the owner personally, he strongly suspected that its reputation had been come by purposefully. What better place to find information one wouldn't overhear in polite society than a dirty bar with a seemingly surly and uninterested barkeep? The more he thought about it, the more Harry became convinced that this had been exactly Aberforth's intention, and he wouldn't have been at all surprised if he found out that Professor Dumbledore had been involved as well. It seemed like every time Harry turned around, he was finding yet another method by which Dumbledore had accrued his vast amounts of information on the happenings in the wizarding world as a whole.

It was another ten minutes before Aberforth once again came to Harry's corner of the bar, swiping at it with a rag that might have once been white but was now a revolting shade of black and mottled green. "Your room's number 24," he whispered out of the side of his mouth. "Second floor, very end of the hall. It's where Albus always stayed when he needed to get away from the school, and if you say 'impatiens' to the mirror, you'll find a passage down into the garden."

"Is there anywhere I could -" Harry began.

"Get something to eat?" Aberforth interrupted, now speaking to him from under the bar, where he seemed to be rummaging for something. "Go on to your room; you'll find something there."

"Thanks," Harry whispered, and carefully wended his way through the bar to the rickety wooden staircase at the back. As he passed the man called Fernie, he wrinkled his nose. The smell of alcohol coming from the man was so strong that Harry thought he might get light headed just from breathing it, and mixed in with that was the distinct smell of one who had not bathed anytime in the recent past. Careful not to give himself away, Harry quickened his pace until he was well away from him.

Room Twenty-Four was situated at the end of a narrow second-floor corridor with a floor that seemed to be carpeted with the grime of decades. Harry sighed longingly as he reached the nondescript wooden door, thinking of the warm dormitory at the top of Gryffindor Tower, his four-poster with its scarlet hangings and the warming pan he knew would have been placed between the sheets by the house-elves. He guessed that beyond this door would be another room just like the ones he had come from: bare and dirty, smelling of onions, alcohol and old socks.

When he opened the door, he found himself face to face with another wooden wall, and he had to wind his way around it to get into the room. The way the bit of wall was situated, no one would have been able to see into the room even if the door was left wide open.

Harry's mouth opened in shock as the room itself came into view. This room, though plain and unadorned, looked nothing like the rest of the pub. It had been cleaned so recently that Harry could smell the furniture polish, and the planks of the wooden floor were scrubbed smooth. He wondered briefly if Aberforth scrubbed this room himself as he finally removed his Invisibility Cloak and placed it and his backpack on the bed, which was covered in a downy-looking white duvet with dark blue embroidered stars.

He didn't have to wonder long. Just as Harry had begun to change out of his school robes in favor of a lighter set he had ordered over the summer from Madam Malkin's, he heard a distinct 'pop' from behind him and turned, wand at the ready. It took him a moment to locate the cause of the disturbance; he scanned the room at eye-level before letting his gaze fall towards the floor and the very old house-elf standing at knee level a couple feet away from him.

"Erm, hello," Harry said, looking down at a huge pair of green eyes which were looking at him not altogether kindly.

The house-elf bowed perfunctorily, less as a sign of respect than as an expected custom. "Master has sent Kibbly to find out what Mr. Harry Potter requires for the night, sir," he said, his voice sounding like a higher-pitched version of Aberforth's "pub voice."

Harry, who had expected a squeaky voice like that of the other house-elves he had met, was a bit taken aback by the gravelly pitch of this one's. He supposed it might have something to do with the cloud of smoke that usually hovered in the air at the pub, smoke which was comprised of what he suspected was much more than tobacco.

"Ok...er...yeah," Harry said uncertainly, wondering if this house-elf belonged to Aberforth and, if it did, why it seemed to be glaring at him so suspiciously. "Could I have some...er...dinner?"

Kibbly bowed again and disappeared with another 'pop', not even asking Harry what he would like to eat. Harry didn't mind, however; at this point, the small lunch he had eaten on the train seemed to be years ago.

Harry finished changing as he waited for Kibbly to return, and when he was done and had stowed the one set of school robes he had brought in his pack, he took the opportunity to look around the room once more.

Beside the bed was a plain chest containing a pewter holder with a new candle waiting to be lit, and in the other corner of the room was a door which, on further inspection, opened into a small washroom with an old-fashioned cast-iron tub, a toilet and a washbasin. Like the main room, there were no decorative adornments to be found and it was just as immaculately clean, smelling strongly of lemon. Harry was just splashing some water on his face when he heard Kibbly return to the bedroom.

"Harry Potter's dinner," the house-elf said stiffly, setting a wooden tray containing a covered plate, a pitcher and a goblet on the small table next to the window.

"Thanks, Kibbly," Harry responded, and when the house-elf continued to look at him suspiciously, he added, "Er...is something wrong?"

"No, sir," Kibbly replied curtly, and he bowed once again and disapparated.

Shrugging, Harry turned his attention to the tray, wondering what kind of food the plate would contain. Before he had seen this room, he would not have expected anything good, but he now realized that there was much more to this pub than originally met the eye.

Harry sighed in appreciation when he uncovered the plate to find a hot dinner of steak-and-kidney pie complete with steamed vegetables and buttered bread on the side. Coupled with several gobletfuls of ice-cold pumpkin juice from the pitcher, this made a very satisfactory meal even if it was nothing compared to the feast he would have enjoyed had he continued on to school from the train.

When he had finished, Harry put everything neatly back onto the tray and wiped the crumbs from the table with his napkin, somehow afraid to do anything that might annoy Kibbly. Trying to forget the suspicious looks the elf had given him, Harry turned back toward his pack, and within a few moments, had his research spread out around him in the customary six piles.

The new candle on Harry's bedside stand had burned nearly down to the bottom when Harry heard the familiar 'pop' once again and looked up to see Kibbly standing stiffly at the foot of the bed.

"Hi," Harry said uncertainly. Kibbly did not reply; he only stood his ground, staring straight at Harry, his large eyes narrowed. He was not exactly disrespectful, but neither did he make any effort to hide his obvious suspicions about Harry and what right he had to be staying in Albus Dumbledore's former room. After a few moments, Harry tried again, finding he could not concentrate on his work and ignore the elf any more than he could have ignored a marching band or a game of Quidditch. "Kibbly," he said with the slightest touch of irritation. "Is there something you want?"

"Master requests that Harry Potter meet him in the garden," Kibbly responded formally, with a curt nod of his head. "Kibbly will show Harry Potter the way."

"I know how to get there, thanks," Harry responded quickly, remembering the password Aberforth had told him and eager to get out of the house-elf's company.

"Of course Master told Harry Potter how to get into the garden," Kibbly mumbled as he went over to pick up the dinner tray from the table. "Master has so little regard for security, so little regard for his own safety."

Harry bristled. "Kibbly, I'm Aberforth's friend," he said, knowing he was unlikely to convince the elf. "I'd never do anything to hurt him."

The elf didn't reply.

"Really, Kibbly," Harry said a little desperately. For some reason, he thought it might be rather important to win the house-elf's trust. "I - "

"Will Harry Potter be requiring anything else for the night?" Kibbly interrupted, casting his eyes down in what seemed to Harry to be a sarcastic imitation of a house-elf's usual subservience.

Harry sighed. "No, thanks," he replied, picking up his traveling cloak, knowing it would be rather chilly outside by now.

After another perfunctory bow, Kibbly disappeared, bearing Harry's dinner tray. Shaking his head, Harry made his way over to the mirror.

"Impatiens," he said quietly, and the mirror swung forward to reveal a very narrow stone staircase.

" _Lumos_ ," Harry whispered, lighting his wand-tip. The staircase was not long, and Harry soon found himself facing a wooden door that he figured led right into Aberforth's charmed and warded garden. Nevertheless, he kept his wand at the ready as he pushed it open.

"No need for that, my lad," Aberforth's gravelly voice greeted him as he came through the door into the darkened garden. "Didn't I tell ya before, even Al couldn't get past these wards without my leave?"

Harry grinned and pocketed his wand. Judging by the height of the half-moon, it must have been nearly midnight, but that didn't surprise him much. He always seemed to lose track of time when he was working on Professor Dumbledore's papers.

"Sit down, Harry," Aberforth invited, lighting a lamp situated on a small cast-iron table, the same table at which they had talked following Dumbledore's death. "So, tell me," he continued as Harry took a seat opposite him, "have you found any of the horcruxes yet?"

"You knew?" Harry asked, though he was not particularly surprised. He had always suspected that Aberforth had known all along, or at least had some idea, of the contents of his brother's legacy.

"Aye," Aberforth confirmed. "Al was frightful worried about it, and frightful worried about you," he said candidly, gazing at Harry across the table.

Harry knew this to be true. Though Dumbledore had shown more confidence in him as the spring term had progressed and had finally stopped treating him like a child, Harry had not missed the frequent gazes the Headmaster had given him, gazes full of concern for everything Harry was being asked to do, gazes which plainly told that Dumbledore had come to regard Harry as much more than a student, but almost as more of a son or grandson. He had given Harry the last and plainest of these looks immediately before his own death.

"Al thought a lot of you," Aberforth commented. "He knew you could finish this off, otherwise he never would have gone the way he did."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked curiously, but not without some dread.

"Albus had an idea that destroying that ring - that horcrux - would weaken him a damn sight more than he could afford. Why, then, would he do something like that in the middle of a battle, when he would need all his wits about him?"

"Why?" Harry whispered, for he had had the same question many times since the battle at Hyde Park. "And if you knew he was going to, why didn't you stop him?"

Aberforth laughed then, a gravelly, deep-throated laugh that seemed to reverberate around the fragrant garden, and Harry looked at him, open-mouthed. What could possibly be funny?

"Aberforth?" Harry asked quietly as the laughter died down.

"Sorry, my lad," Aberforth answered, wiping his eyes. "It's just...well, can you really imagine an old bumbler like me getting Albus not to do something he thought was important?"

Harry couldn't help but smile a little as he answered honestly, "Not really, I reckon." Catching the amused glint in the barman's eyes, he added hastily, "Not that you're a bumbler. I mean..."

"That's all right, Harry," Aberforth interrupted him, his expression becoming serious once more. "Truth is, Al pulled the same thing on Voldemort as he did on old Grindlewald back in 1945."

"Grindlewald used horcruxes?" Harry asked.

"No," Aberforth answered solemnly. "That one is unique to Voldemort."

"But I thought - " Harry began.

"Yeah, there's them that's tried it," Aberforth conceded, "but never like this. No, sir, our friend Tom Riddle is an individual, he is. Thought that one up all by himself."

Harry nodded slightly. "But what does this have to do with why Professor Dumbledore chose to destroy the horcrux right in front of Voldemort's face? It doesn't seem that letting the enemy know our strategy was a good idea."

"Circumstances demanded it, and Al reckoned that Voldemort would become obsessed with who had leaked his plan to the enemy." Aberforth shuddered slightly. "I wouldn't want to be Severus Snape right now."

"Snape," said Harry viciously, though he said nothing more. He had not yet said a word to anyone regarding Snape's role in the attack on Privet Drive, or even the fact that he was there. The truth was, while Snape had undoubtedly killed Vernon Dursley, Harry was remembering the rest of the battle in a different light. There had been several occasions at which it would have been simple for him to capture Harry and his aunt from the top of the stairs, yet he hadn't done so...why? Harry was determined to find out the answers from Snape himself, but the time had not yet come for that.

"Aye," Aberforth said, shaking his head darkly. "Piece of work, that one is, but he weren't the one who told Albus about the horcruxes. Voldemort won't believe that, though, and ain't no man living who deserves what's likely happening to Snape right about now."

Harry somehow doubted that. If anyone deserved it, Snape did.

"So how far have you gotten?" Aberforth asked, changing the subject rapidly.

"We know that we need to find Slytherin's locket, and we think that it might have been at Grimmauld Place, but we can't find it now." The frustration was evident in Harry's voice.

"Grimmauld Place, eh?" Aberforth responded ponderously. "What makes you think it was there?"

"Sirius's brother was a Death Eater, and his parents were dark wizards, even if they never joined up," Harry said. "And besides that, we saw it."

"You saw it?" Aberforth asked in surprise.

"Two summers ago, before my fifth year, Mrs. Weasley had us cleaning out the house so it would be fit for Headquarters. There was a locket that was really odd and wouldn't open, and Ginny remembered the inscription from Professor Dumbledore's notes, but we couldn't find it. Either it got binned or Mundungus Fletcher has it." Harry spat out this last name, for he was beginning to dislike Mundungus Fletcher with the same intensity he had previously reserved for Malfoy or Snape. He blamed Mundungus for leaving Arthur Weasley alone at the beginning of the battle, blamed him for what had happened, and if he had been nicking things from Grimmauld Place, Harry would see to it that he paid the price.

"Dung?" Aberforth said ponderingly. "Yeah, that fits. I heard he's gone underground. Is that true?"

"Yeah," Harry answered bitterly. "He Disapparated as soon as he saw the Dark Mark on Privet Drive and no one's seen him since."

Aberforth nodded. "I can keep an ear open in the pub," he told Harry. "Might be that it'll be the first place we'll hear of him, though he's not allowed in, himself."

Harry remembered how Dung had disguised himself as an old witch the day he had started the D.A. in his fifth year and nodded.

"Any progress on the rest of them?"

"Not yet. I've figured out that Professor Dumbledore thought there were four of them still out there besides Voldemort himself, and we know about the locket and Hufflepuff's cup, but nothing we've found so far seems like it would be something Voldemort would have chosen," Harry said, grimacing.

"You'll find 'em," Aberforth said positively. "I know you will. Just keep working on it. Did you get everything you needed tonight, by the way?"

Harry chuckled. "Yeah," he answered. "Your house-elf is a bit..." He trailed off, not sure of the right word to describe Kibbly.

"Strange little bugger, isn't he?" Aberforth said with a grin, "but you won't find a more loyal creature in all the Wizarding world. He's just got that way over the years. He thinks Al and myself aren't careful enough and that we trust too many people, so he's taken it as his personal mission to suspect everybody who crosses our paths of treachery."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"You'll win him over, Harry," Aberforth continued. "As soon as he figures out he can trust you, you won't find a friendlier elf anywhere, and that you may tie to. I'll have words with him, for all the good it'll do." He chuckled. "He's almost as old as I am, and though he follows orders, he's got a mind of his own."

Harry nodded and tried to stifle a yawn. It had been a long day, and he had much to do beginning the next morning.

"I'll let you get up to your bed," Aberforth said. "I've got to clean up the pub before I turn in myself."

"Clean up?" Harry asked before he thought to stop himself.

Aberforth laughed throatily. "Aye, lad, the Hog's Head ain't as dirty as you might think." He got up and smoothed his robes before offering Harry one last bit of advice. "I'd stay cloaked in the main areas, though, if I were you," he warned. "Doesn't have to be the Invisibility Cloak; I know those things can be right pains in the arse. Just keep your head, and especially your scar, covered. Your traveling cloak will do, and in my pub, no one's going to look askance at another hooded wizard."

"Ok," Harry said, standing up as well. "Thanks."

"Good night, my lad," Aberforth said, placing his hand briefly on Harry's shoulder. "If you need anything, my room's on the first floor right behind the pub, or just call for Kibbly."

"Good night, Aberforth," Harry responded, touched by the man's warmth; after all, they barely knew one another.

They walked silently toward the back entrances to the pub, and nodded as they went into the separate doors; Harry, back up to his room and Aberforth back in to "clean" the pub.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Harry was awoken the next morning by the bright sunlight filtering through the large, eastward-facing window in his room. He had had such a comfortable sleep that he wondered briefly whether there had been some kind of charm placed on the bed. He could remember no dreams, good or bad, and his body felt more rested than it had in weeks.

Almost as if an alarm had gone off the moment he had awoken, Kibbly appeared beside the bed just as Harry was putting his glasses on, bearing a tray containing a large breakfast, a gobletful of orange juice, and a heavy parchment envelope bearing Harry's name in emerald green ink.

"Master wishes Harry Potter to have some breakfast," Kibbly said, sporting the same untrusting look as he had the night before.

"Thanks, Kibbly," Harry said, sitting up and stretching. He was quite embarrassed when Kibbly put the tray right down on his lap. "Erm," he added, his face reddening, "I'll eat at the table if it's...erm...ok with you."

"Anything Harry Potter wishes is ok with Kibbly," the house-elf said, taking the tray once again and setting it on the small table. Though his words were kind, his tone was still rather surly, and Harry could tell that he had a long way to go before he would earn any real friendliness from this particular elf. "Is there anything else Harry Potter requires? There are fresh towels in your washroom, Sir."

"Thanks," Harry said awkwardly. He'd never really known how to deal with having house-elves doing things for him, though he'd gotten rather used to Dobby over the years.

Kibbly bowed perfunctorily and disappeared, leaving Harry to eat his breakfast in silence. Before he began, however, Harry opened the parchment envelope on the tray and was not surprised to find a note from Professor McGonagall, who had already known that he was not returning to school and must have found out that he had come to Hogsmeade on the train from one of the students.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I would like to meet with you in my office sometime today if you are available. I believe we have several matters of great import to discuss._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Harry folded the note and placed it back into the envelope, abandoning his breakfast for another moment to search in his bag for the parchment, quill and inkpot he had packed before leaving Headquarters. When he found it, he scribbled a short note telling Professor McGonagall that he would come to the castle that very morning, after classes had commenced. He wanted to attract as little attention as possible to himself.

 _I wonder if she's still teaching Transfiguration_ , Harry thought. Professor Dumbledore hadn't taught classes, and he guessed that Professor McGonagall probably didn't do so anymore, either. As he quickly ate his breakfast and bathed, Harry wondered who the new Transfiguration teacher would be.

Following Aberforth's suggestion, Harry donned his traveling cloak along with his black school robes. He knew he wasn't required to wear them anymore, but the idea of going to the school in anything else was strange enough that Harry decided he'd rather just go with it. His school robes were among his most comfortable clothing, anyway. Pulling the hood of his cloak over his head like he had seen many of the patrons of the Hog's Head do, Harry left his room and walked quietly downstairs to the main entrance of the pub.

As Aberforth had predicted, no one gave Harry as much as a second glance as he walked to the bar, briefly told Aberforth where he was going, and walked out onto one of the side roads in Hogsmeade. Setting a brisk pace, Harry took deep breaths of the crisp fall air as he walked toward the main entrance of the school. He had not yet gone to the Ministry to obtain his Apparation license, and even though Harry knew he was unlikely to be caught, he had a little time to kill if he wanted to reach Hogwarts after morning classes had commenced.

He found the gates to the grounds closed tight, and for a moment, Harry wasn't sure what to do. Was there a password he had to speak, or a spell he had to perform? Taking out his wand, he looked down at it in confusion and some regret. He found it difficult to swallow that the gates of the school remained closed to him, but as he gazed at his wand, his eyes fell on the light wooden band around its base.

 _No time like the present to try it out_ , Harry thought. He pointed his wand into the school grounds and focused his thoughts on Professor McGonagall. _I can't get into the grounds_ , he thought, and his wand grew momentarily warm in his hand before he saw a smaller, more transparent version of his patronus shoot out of the tip and race towards the castle. Moments later, the gates opened and Harry walked up the familiar pathway to the school.


	6. The Doors of Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Horcrux Hunt is officially on. Staying at the Hog's Head with Albus Dumbledore's eccentric brother and equally eccentric house-elf, Harry is growing increasingly frustrated with their lack of information. Meanwhile, back at Grimmauld Place, Remus Lupin is growing ill - is it a simple bug, or something more sinister?

Narcissa Malfoy gazed coolly across the Headmaster's desk at an equally unruffled Minerva McGonagall. "Of course I continue to require refuge," she stated haughtily. "I am no longer able to return to my home, not that I would do so even if I could." She shuddered slightly, pain flitting across her noble features for the merest fraction of a second.

McGonagall nodded slightly, sympathy and some pity evident in her gaze. Narcissa obviously did not appreciate even the slightest bit of this; rather than warming up to the older woman, she bristled as if she had been badly offended.

"Do not fool yourself that I am on your side, McGonagall," she said plainly. "I am on no side. I help you only to avenge my son's death." Again, her features became clouded by a momentary look of pain before she drew herself up, meeting the Headmistress' eyes unblinkingly. "Of course you are aware that my life became forfeit the moment I left my home and came here."

"Yes," McGonagall responded simply. "As Professor Dumbledore informed you, and as I myself have reminded you on several occasions, you may consider Hogwarts to be your home for as long as you require asylum."

Narcissa grimaced, clearly pained to hear anyone say that the school was her home, but she held her gaze locked with McGonagall's, saying nothing.

After a few moments, McGonagall broke the silence. "I have been given to believe you have more information to share with me."

"You are a fool, McGonagall, just as Albus Dumbledore was a fool," Narcissa replied, her voice as cold as ice. "You do not yet realize the extent of the Dark Lord's power."

A light chuckle sounded from directly behind where Narcissa sat perched on one of the armchairs facing the Head's desk, and McGonagall's eyes flicked towards the portrait as her lips thinned with repressed emotion. Narcissa did not turn; she was unimpressed by the portraits of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses of the school and had no desire to enter into a conversation with any of them.

"I suppose you wish explain this matter more fully?" McGonagall pressed when Narcissa did not continue.

"The Dark Lord has gotten farther in his quest for immortality than any wizard in history, with the exception of Nicholas Flamel and his ridiculous stone," Narcissa began, raising her chin defiantly, as if she expected a challenge to this statement. When McGonagall merely gestured for her to continue, she said impatiently, "Of course, the Sorcerer's Stone was indeed a potent object, but Flamel had too many noble ideals to realize its true power. In the hands of the Dark Lord..." She trailed off, leaving no doubt as to her belief that Lord Voldemort would have known exactly what to do with the Sorcerer's Stone had he managed to lay hands on it six years before.

Again, McGonagall said nothing, but merely inclined her head noncommittally. Before Narcissa could continue, however, a small, transparent stag leapt through the window of the office and appeared to whisper in the Headmistress's ear. Without comment, McGonagall pointed her wand at the office wall, waving it in a complicated figure-eight pattern before returning her attention to Narcissa. "Continue," she ordered.

"Suffice it to say that the Dark Lord's quest for immortality, should he succeed, will not be so frail as to be destroyed with the simple act of destroying an object such as that stone," Narcissa continued coolly.

"You believe he will succeed?" McGonagall inquired, leaning forward. This was a subject Narcissa Malfoy had not breached in any of their conversations over the course of the summer.

"He has already succeeded beyond what any other wizard has done," Narcissa snapped, annoyed at having to repeat herself. "When his plan is complete, there will be none who will have the ability to destroy him, not even your 'Chosen One,'" she completed cynically.

McGonagall's nostrils flared slightly, and Narcissa remembered her well enough from her own school days to recognize this as a sign of anger. "Still putting your faith in Potter, are you?" she asked sardonically.

At that very moment, a knock sounded on the outer door of the office. McGonagall stood, looking down at Narcissa through her square spectacles. "I believe that concludes our interview for today, Mrs. Malfoy," she said formally. "I have another appointment which is quite urgent." She tapped the wooden office door with her wand and it opened slowly, revealing the very person about whom Narcissa had been sneering only a moment before.

Harry's eyes widened as the door opened and he saw Narcissa sitting, cool as could be, in the very chair where he had sat so many times the previous term. He quickly matched her Malfoy sneer with a glare that would have sent any first- or second-year student running for cover.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he growled, not bothering to keep his tone anywhere approaching civil.

"I see you have still not been taught manners, Potter," Narcissa replied icily. "Professor McGonagall, I must confess myself disappointed that the students of this school are no longer required to exhibit even the most common of courtesies when in the presence of their superiors."

Harry had opened his mouth, about to respond angrily, when McGonagall cut him off. "That will be all, Mrs. Malfoy," she stated firmly.

Narcissa rose to leave, her eyes never straying from Harry's enraged face. "If this boy is truly your greatest hope," she said softly as paused in the doorway, "then the Dark Lord will be in power in a very short amount of time indeed." With that, she turned her back on them and swept from the room, her black robes swishing behind her as she headed towards the revolving staircase.

Harry stared after her for a moment before he shook himself slightly, moving mechanically to the chair opposite the one in which Narcissa had been sitting. He waited as McGonagall magically closed and locked the office door, trying not to look around the office, which, while it held the same furniture as it had during Dumbledore's tenure, looked quite different.

Gone were the many whirring and clinking silver instruments from the table, and gone was the cabinet which had held Dumbledore's Pensieve. Harry wondered sadly what had become of the Headmaster's things.

Far more disturbing that the absence of Dumbledore's possessions, however, was the absence of Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix whose tail feather resided at the heart of Harry's wand. Over the years of Harry's education at Hogwarts, he had become so used to the scarlet bird's presence in the Head's office that the room just did not seem complete without him. Harry remembered Aberforth's assurance that Fawkes would return for a time after he had mourned his master's death, but Harry himself had not seen nor heard anything of the phoenix since the day of Dumbledore's funeral.

"Thank you for coming to see me, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said in her usual brisk tone.

"You're welcome, Professor," Harry replied, a bit bewildered. Why was she acting as if he had done her a favor by answering her summons? It wasn't as if he had had any choice in the matter; or, rather, as if he had felt like he had a choice. He didn't suppose he would ever be able to think of McGonagall in any light other than that of the strict professor to whom he had grown accustomed over the course of the years.

"Now, Mr. Potter," she said abruptly. "I assure you, we speak in complete privacy." She indicated the locked door of the office. "I should now like to know exactly why you did not return to school as well as what your plans are."

Harry gulped. He had been afraid of this, but this was one subject upon which he would not let himself be intimidated. "I'm sorry, Professor," he said in what he hoped was a sincere and respectful tone, "but my mission now is my own."

McGonagall's nostrils flared and she pressed her lips into a dangerously thin line. Had Harry still been at school, he would have been certain at this point that the deduction of house points and the assignment of detention was forthcoming. As it was, he quaked ever so slightly, just barely managing to keep his gaze evenly matched with hers. "I'm sorry, Professor," he repeated, not knowing what else to say.

"You realize, Mr. Potter, that I have taken on leadership of the Order of the Phoenix as well as that of this school?" McGonagall asked coolly.

Harry gulped again. "I know that, Professor," he responded, keeping his tone reasonable and, he hoped, mature sounding. "But as I am not allowed to be a member of the Order of the Phoenix and am no longer a student at this school - "

"How _dare_ you?" McGonagall gasped, forgetting her resolution to treat him as an adult. Before she could continue, however, a voice came from behind Harry which caused his insides to become as cold as ice.

"Harry is right, Minerva," Albus Dumbledore's voice seemed to Harry to echo throughout the room.

Harry whipped around so quickly that he gave himself a crick in his neck. There, plain as day on the back wall of the office was a portrait of Albus Dumbledore, sitting serenely in a squashy chintz armchair very much like the one he had conjured at Harry's Ministry hearing before his fifth year.

"Albus, surely...as leader of the Order..." McGonagall sputtered.

"There are things that even leaders may not know," Dumbledore's portrait replied calmly. "The information Harry now possesses is not only the key to defeating Voldemort, but is information which Harry alone has the power to act upon."

Harry and McGonagall both widened their eyes at this statement.

"What do you mean, Professor?" Harry asked sharply, but the portrait Dumbledore only smiled at him as he settled more comfortably back in his chair and closed his eyes, rather like he was going to have a nice nap.

"Professor?" Harry repeated, just as McGonagall said, "Albus?"

The only reply either of them got was a small smile as the portrait of the former Headmaster let his chin drop down onto his chest. Within moments, the painted chest was rising and falling softly and Dumbledore seemed to be fast asleep.

McGonagall and Harry stared at one another, and he could almost see the wheels turning in her mind as she considered what had been said. Finally, she sighed and leaned back into her chair, abandoning her ramrod-straight posture only slightly. "Very well," she said resignedly. "Are you quite certain you cannot tell me what you are doing?"

"I can't, Professor," Harry said firmly, and this time he did not apologize. Cryptic though the portrait's message had been, it had restored a bit of his confidence that he was indeed doing the right thing.

"I see," was McGonagall's only reply, and though her lips were still rather thin, her face softened enough to assure Harry that she was no longer angry with him.

"So..." Harry asked, looking for a way to break the uncomfortable silence in the office. "Erm...who's teaching Transfiguration now?" It seemed like a stupid question the moment it left his mouth, but a return to Hogwarts business seemed to be just what Professor McGonagall had needed to return her to her usual brisk attitude.

"Emmeline Vance," she replied.

Harry screwed up his face for a moment, trying to remember where he had heard that name. After a pause he said, "She's in the Order, right? She was that tall, blonde witch who was part of my guard before fifth year, wasn't she?"

"Indeed," McGonagall replied. "Professor Vance worked for the Ministry until quite recently, when she resigned in protest of Rufus Scrimgeour's new policies."

Harry nodded, beginning to like the woman already. "What did she do for the Ministry?" he asked curiously.

"She was an Unspeakable," McGonagall replied. "She worked in the Department of Mysteries. She is an extremely capable witch, and we are fortunate to have her."

Harry nodded again, wondering what else he could say. He knew that McGonagall's purpose in calling him here had been to ask him what he was going to do, and now that she had seemed to accept that he was not going to tell her, he was not at all certain how to proceed with the conversation.

After another lengthy pause, the silence was broken again, this time by McGonagall. "Potter," she said, and her voice was gentler than it had been all morning.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry asked, looking up from where he had been picking at a loose thread in his cloak.

"I want you to understand," she said softly, "that while you may no longer be a student here, this school will always be a home for you, should you ever need it. The doors of Hogwarts will be open to you and yours for as long as I am Headmistress, and, I would hope, for as long as you should want them to be."

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Harry saw Ginny briefly after her first class was over, but as there was only a ten-minute break and he was loath to be seen by the other students and have to answer their innumerable questions, all they could manage was a quick rendezvous in their favorite tapestry-hidden secret passage before she had to rush off to her first N.E.W.T. Transfiguration class with Professor Vance. As it was, they were almost seen by a group of seventh-year Slytherins who had been cronies of Draco Malfoy, and it was that which gave Harry an idea that he put into action the moment he got back to his room at the Hog's Head.

"Hedwig," he called softly, holding out his arm for her after he had tossed his cloak on the neatly made bed and scribbled a note on a spare bit of parchment. She fluttered down from her perch on top of a tall wooden cupboard, hooting in a contented sort of way when she landed on the soft, worn fabric of Harry's school robes. "Take this to Ginny, will you?" he asked, stroking her head for a moment after he had tied two separate bits of parchment to her left leg, one of them ragged and worn, the other new and containing only a few lines of carefully coded instruction.

Nipping his finger affectionately, she flew at once through the open window and streaked towards the distant Hogwarts castle. Harry watched her until she disappeared from sight, and then he returned to his papers, wanting to find a good starting place for some research in the Hogwarts library.

He was immersed in his work when Hedwig returned, her beak full of dead...well, dead _something_. He stroked her absentmindedly on the head, taking a break from copying down various runes and incantations he needed Hermione to translate for him. He could never send anything like this by owl post, of course, but he hoped he would see his friends soon.

"I don't know, Hedwig," he said, ruffling his own hair in frustration. "There is so much here, but I just can't make heads or tails of most of it."

"Does sir require any assistance?" Kibbly asked, startling Harry as he spoke from the gap between the privacy partition and the wall of the room.

"Kibbly!" Harry asked, jumping just a little and causing himself to streak ink across a particularly complicated rune he was trying to copy. "Don't do that!"

"Kibbly didn't mean to startle you, sir," the house-elf said, and Harry was surprised to hear that his tone had become a bit gentler since the night before. "But it is time for Harry Potter to eat something. Master is quite concerned that Harry Potter takes proper care of himself."

As Harry looked across at Kibbly, he saw that the house-elf was indeed carrying the now-familiar wooden tray bearing a covered plate, a goblet and a pewter pitcher. Harry glanced at his wristwatch and was surprised to find that it was after noon and, as if on cue, his stomach gave a growl.

"Thanks, Kibbly," he said, getting off the bed and moving towards the front of the room to take the tray.

"Kibbly will set the table, sir," the house-elf said, bustling past Harry, who stared at him in confusion. "Go on, Harry Potter," he urged, and without further ado, he jumped up onto the bed and sat down without being asked, pointing a long, wizened finger at the small table.

Harry stood rooted to the spot for a moment, completely befuddled. What had caused this change of attitude in Kibbly? He remembered that Aberforth had said Harry would find the Dumbledore house-elf to be much friendlier once he had earned his trust, but Harry could not think of anything he had done that would have brought that about so quickly, not to mention the fact that he had never known a house-elf to sit down unless he was asked or told to do so.

"Does Harry Potter find fault with the food?" Kibbly asked, and a bit of the old surliness returned to his voice.

"Erm, no," Harry replied, seating himself at the table and uncovering the plate to reveal a lunch of ham sandwiches and fresh fruit. "Thanks," he said thickly as he bit into the soft bread, wondering if Kibbly was planning on staying through the entire meal.

Apparently, that was precisely Kibbly's intention. He sat and stared at Harry while he ate and drank, not jumping off the bed until Harry had finished every last crumb.

"Master wishes to know if Harry Potter would like some books," Kibbly said while he busily cleared the table.

"What kinds of books?" Harry asked curiously.

"Dark books, Harry Potter," Kibbly said, narrowing his eyes as if trying to gauge just how he would react to this information.

Harry grimaced a bit. He'd had some experience with some of the darker curse books in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library, and he really had no desire to touch another one. Unfortunately, he knew that in order to think like Lord Voldemort, he was going to have to delve into some of these subjects.

He sighed. "I suppose so, Kibbly," he said. "Would you tell Aberforth 'thank you' for me and ask him if we could talk later tonight?"

For some reason, Kibbly's eyes glinted in satisfaction at Harry's response, and Harry wondered if he had just passed some kind of test, especially when the elf replied more cordially than ever before, "Certainly, Harry Potter, sir," before he disappeared bearing the lunch tray.

Before Harry could delve back into his notes, Ginny's owl, Bono, fluttered through the window and landed gently on Harry's pillow, a small scroll of parchment tied to his leg. Eagerly, Harry untied the leather thong and offered Bono a drink from Hedwig's bowl, which the owl graciously declined as he set back off for Hogwarts.

_Dear Harry,_

_I can't believe you sent me what you did!_ _I think I'm going to have a right good time with it. I've always wanted a go with it, ever since I saw Fred and George_ _using it during my first year, not to mention that it might be helpful in keeping our agreement._

_I'm on one of my study breaks right now. The first day of term has gone as well as can be expected without you, Ron and Hermione to talk with between lessons. The Common Room seems so quiet, and I don't have much studying to do just yet. I'm going to try to get my teachers to give me their lesson outlines for the year so I can make sure and keep up._

_We have a new Transfiguration teacher, Professor Vance. I think she's in the Order; at least, I'm certain I've heard her mentioned around Headquarters before. She's very strict, and almost as clever as Professor McGonagall. I think she'll be good, really._

_I just thought of something today. I have Tonks tomorrow afternoon, and I reckon she's the first Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've had for more than a year! I'm glad, though I wonder what that means. Maybe the job isn't cursed; maybe it's just that the teachers have had a run of bad luck. It's not exactly a safe subject, is it?_

_I know I just saw you today, but I hope you'll come again soon. I miss you already._

_Love,_

_Ginny_

Harry couldn't suppress a grin at her not-so-subtle reminder that he had consented to let her come with him when he left Hogwarts. He scribbled off a quick reply, told Hedwig that she would find Ginny in the Gryffindor Common Room, and set back to work.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

The next few days passed by in an exhausting blur for Harry. By day, he remained at the Hog's Head, secure in either his room or Aberforth's garden. Occasionally, he would leave and meet Ginny at "their" spot on the lakeside path during one of her study breaks, but as she seemed to be trying as hard as she could to get a head start on her NEWT classes in preparation for her departure from school, even those meetings were brief and seemed far too infrequent.

By night, Harry would eat dinner in the pub, heavily cloaked and hooded, straining his ears for any information about Mundungus Fletcher's whereabouts or any Death Eater activity, and after he had waited until all curfews at the school had passed, he would don the Invisibility Cloak and head up to the school to use the library.

McGonagall, true to her word, had indeed ensured that Hogwarts was completely open to Harry. Even though he wore his cloak at all times, he found that the portraits and statues guarding some of the locked doors inside the school were eager to let him pass, and though Harry strongly suspected that Madam Pince was aware of his nightly perusals of the Restricted Section, she never showed herself or offered any kind of resistance as he thumbed through her precious books with increasing frustration.

He had been worried at first that giving the Marauder's Map to Ginny might have made his nighttime wanderings more difficult, as he could no longer search for the small dots representing the staff before going down a corridor or entering a room. His fears proved groundless, however, for between the cloak and the instructions that the Headmistress had undoubtedly issued to the staff, he had no trouble, and on more than one occasion, Ginny's possession of the map was more rewarding than he had ever imagined. To be sitting in the library, reading dark books full of curses and hexes in the wee hours of the morning and then to feel her soft breath on the back of his neck and the feel of her gentle fingers on his sore shoulders was nothing short of the most wonderful thing Harry had ever experienced.

Of course, on the nights that Ginny did come to find him using her map, he had no choice but to abandon whatever dark tome he was perusing at the time, open his Cloak, and allow her to lead him through the stacks of books and into a realm of knowledge that was much more fun to explore than "the Six Hundred Sixty-Six Uses of the Freshly Murdered Human Body." On those nights, Harry invariably returned to the Hog's Head later than usual, twice as exhausted, but tenfold more relaxed.

Kibbly was, as Aberforth had predicted, becoming friendlier to Harry each day, though in his friendliness, he acted less and less like a house-elf, often perching on Harry's bed to watch him eat his meals and waiting up for Harry at night with the air of an anxious parent. At times, it seemed as though the house-elf was even trying to make small talk.

Nothing surprised Harry more, however, than one afternoon about ten days after his arrival when Kibbly appeared in his room with a snack. The house-elf, instead of wearing the light blue pillowcase Harry had become accustomed to, was wearing a set of miniature white robes embroidered with golden stars

Harry gasped, knowing that the only way a house-elf could become free was to be presented with clothes. Wisely, though, he decided not to comment, working hard to arrange his face into a careful nonchalance.

That night, however, while Harry ate a supper of greasy fish and chips at the bar (the food in the pub was much worse than the food he received when he ate in his room), his head covered by a tattered second-hand cloak he had purchased in the village in order to fit in even better with the Hog's Head clientele, he quietly asked Aberforth what had happened.

Aberforth chuckled out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes twinkling like his brother's always had, but his face still set into the trademark scowl he wore in the pub. "Kibbly's been free for a century," he informed Harry, "but he usually won't let you know that until you've got into his good graces."

"Kibbly's free?" Harry asked in surprise, keeping his voice low.

"'Course he is," Aberforth replied as he bent under the bar and pretended to be cleaning the glasses and butterbeer bottles. "He came to Al one night a long time ago and told him flat out that he'd had enough of following orders 'against his better judgment,' I think he said. This was right after I'd got in a heap o' trouble when someone I'd counted as a friend framed me up an' turned me in for practicing 'inappropriate charms on a goat.'"

Harry could imagine Kibbly's reaction to that, given the fierce protectiveness the house-elf had exhibited towards Aberforth since Harry's first day at the pub.

"I'd ordered him to bugger off earlier that day," Aberforth continued, now facing away from Harry and muttering so that Harry had to strain his ears to catch what the barman was saying. "Guess it was the last straw for old Kibbly, who'd sworn to me Dad to protect Al and me. 'Course Al didn't have a problem with that; he set him free that very night, gave 'im his own little robes and everything."

"The white ones with the stars?" Harry asked with interest.

"The very ones," Aberforth replied. "They're actually a set of Al's that he shrunk with his wand when Kibbly wanted to be free. Little bloke won't wear anything else since Al died." He spoke of the house-elf fondly, the corners of his mouth twitching the way they always did when he was covering a smile.

Harry didn't reply. It was always hard for him to talk about the Headmaster's death, even though he had gotten used to Aberforth's stories of their childhood and the years before Harry was born.

Aberforth, who had also gone silent for a second, glanced around the bar and then said gruffly to Harry in his normal volume, "get off wit' ya. You've had enough for one night." He motioned irritably to Harry's glass of water, which Aberforth refilled each night out of an old bottle that had once contained Ogden's Best Firewhisky.

Being of age, Harry had actually drunk and enjoyed a few glasses of the liquor since he had come to Hogsmeade, but he had found quickly that more than about a glass and a half of it rendered him tipsy enough not to be able to concentrate on his night studies at the school. Since the normal patrons of the pub never drank butterbeer, Aberforth and Harry had designed this trick so that he would not stick out. It had worked; from the talk of the other regular patrons in the pub, it seemed that they regarded him as nothing more or less than an old lush of a wizard, much like themselves, who had nothing better to do than to drink himself into a stupor each night.

Harry, knowing that Aberforth was right and it was time for him to leave the pub, stood and walked, his head down and his gait carefully unsteady, up the stairs and back to his room.

He was not surprised to find Pigwidgeon waiting for him when he arrived and threw off the tattered old cloak. The little owl zoomed around his head, an envelope clutched in his tiny beak, and Harry actually had to leap into the air before he finally caught him and took the letter.

Pig twittered excitedly as he flew over to take a drink from Hedwig's bowl, ignoring the reproachful looks the snowy owl kept giving him and gulping thirstily before zooming out the window. With a grin, Harry opened the envelope and found a letter from Hermione. She had taken to writing him every other day to apprise him of their progress at Grimmauld Place, or rather, the lack thereof, and to ask when he would be returning and if he had learned anything new.

Harry could read Hermione's frustration as clearly as his own as she described how she and Ron had spent the better part of the past week tearing Grimmauld Place apart from top to bottom as they looked for the locket or any clues to its whereabouts.

" _I just don't think it's here, Harry,_ " she had written, so irritated that Harry could actually see how the quill had shaken while she was writing. He sympathized with her, and he thought with regret about his reply, which would tell them exactly nothing more than they already knew. Although Harry was learning more about the Dark Arts than he had ever really wanted to know, he was no closer to finding the identity or location of the two unknown Horcruxes.

The letter seemed so much like the other ones she had sent that Harry was only half paying attention when the last paragraph caused him to sit bolt upright in his chair, his eyes growing wide and worried behind his glasses.

 _Ron and I are both getting very worried about Professor Lupin_ , Hermione had written, still not abandoning her insistence in calling him 'Professor' no matter how many times he had told her she could refer to him by his first name. _He is ever so pale, and I don't think he's eating anything. I'm afraid he's ill, Harry, but I don't know what it could be. Whenever we ask him, he says that he's fine, but it's so obvious that he's not. He asked me not to tell you about it, but I changed my mind tonight when I actually heard him being sick in the washroom after dinner. Maybe you could ask him about it through your amulet? We've got to do something. I think he needs help._

Harry jumped off the bed and began to pace, unconsciously crumpling the letter in his fist in his agitation. There was nothing else for it; he had to go back to Grimmauld Place. He didn't know what he would be able to do, but damned if he was going to stay here in Hogsmeade, accomplishing nothing, if Moony was so ill that Hermione had felt the need to write to him about it.

This decision made, Harry threw the wardrobe open and tossed his robes and other possessions onto the bed before going over to the table to write Ginny a note that it was time for them to go.

He had not gotten farther than the first sentence, however, when a loud 'pop' alerted him to Kibbly's presence in the room.

Surveying the mess with obvious distaste, Kibbly stood still for a moment before turning his large green eyes seeming a bit mournful. "Harry Potter is leaving the Hog's Head?" he asked, seeming more than a bit sad about this obvious fact.

"Yeah, I've got to go," Harry said hurriedly. "Listen, Kibbly, Hedwig's out hunting, but can you see that this note gets to Ginny at Hogwarts as soon as possible? I've got to go and pick her up!"

"Kibbly does not know what has upset Harry Potter so much," the house-elf replied, "but Master wished for Kibbly to get Harry Potter straight away and tell him to meet Master in the garden."

This stopped Harry in his tracks, for he knew that the Hog's Head was still hours away from closing time.

"What's going on?" he asked sharply.

"Master has found out where Mundungus Fletcher is hiding."

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

" _I assure you, Harry, that I'm just a bit under the weather_ ," Remus said weakly through the amulet's connection late that night.

" _You're not -_ " Harry responded, concentrating so hard that he had to force himself to back down lest his thoughts come across as shouts in Remus' ear.

" _I am_ ," Remus repeated more insistently this time. " _Listen, Harry, Aberforth told you that Dung is in Edinburgh. He even gave you an address, correct?_ "

" _Yeah, but just because that Fernie bloke said it doesn't mean it's true_ ," Harry argued. " _He's a drunk; he's in the pub almost every night, I've seen him. How would he know_?"

" _If anybody is going to know where Dung is, it's going to be someone just like that. He doesn't exactly associate with the most upstanding members of the wizarding community, does he_?" Remus replied ironically.

" _Well, no, but_ \- "

" _Aberforth told this bloke he owed Dung money after he'd heard Fernie complaining that Dung had cheated him, right_?"

" _Right, but_ \- "

" _Harry, I'd bet almost anything that address is exactly right," Remus interrupted. "Fernie knows he's more likely to get money out of Dung if he knows Dung's just been paid a debt_."

" _But -_ "

" _Mundungus Fletcher never stays in one place for more than a couple of days, and you can't go straightaway. If you're going to catch him, you have to act quickly_."

" _But what about you_?" Harry asked quickly, before his guardian could interrupt him again.

" _I told you, Harry, I'm fine_ ," Remus said impatiently. " _Just a bit under the weather. If you miss this chance to find Mundungus, it could be weeks or even months before you get another one. Do you think that he's not going to hear that Aberforth was asking where he was? He knows Aberforth's in the Order, Harry. He'll be on the move quicker than a Snitch once he catches wind of that_."

Harry sighed, feeling the warmth of the amulet pressing into his palm. Moony had a very valid point, but Harry had an ominous feeling about leaving him alone even for a few days. What if he was really sick? After working it out in his mind for a few more moments, he asked quickly, " _You swear you're going to be all right, Moony? You promise me it's nothing serious_?"

" _I promise, Harry,_ " Lupin responded earnestly. " _I would go with you myself but for the fact that it's only three days until the full moon._ "

" _Yeah_ ," Harry replied, making up his mind and reasoning with himself that this particular mission should only take a couple of days at most. " _If we're going to go, we need to move. Can you send Ron and Hermione this way while I g_ _o...I mean, while I get ready_?"

" _Hold on, Harry,_ " Remus said seriously. " _There is one thing you absolutely must do before you go. It won't take long, but it is essential._ "

" _What's that?_ " Harry asked, wondering what could be so important, especially after Remus' lecture about not wasting time.

" _You've got to go to the Ministry and take your Apparation test,"_ Remus said.

" _You're joking, right?"_ Harry asked. He could Apparate perfectly well, and Remus knew that. Why the sudden worry about the license?

" _Unfortunately, I'm not,_ " Remus replied. " _Harry, I know you can Apparate; I've seen you at it. I also know, however, that the Ministry is going to be looking for any excuse, any reason at all, to bring you in. Rufus Scrimgeour would like nothing more than to have Harry Potter owe him a favor."_

" _But you said we don't have time_ ," Harry protested.

 _"Getting your license takes only a few minutes, Harry,_ " Remus said. " _But getting caught Apparating without one, given the circumstances, could cost a lot more than a fine. Trust me, Harry. I'll send Ron and Hermione tomorrow at noon. Once you have your license, you can Apparate to Scotland much more quickly than you could get there any other way. That will also give you the opportunity to say goodbye to Ginny._ "

This presented a problem outside the usual pang of unease Harry felt at taking Ginny out of school without so much as informing his guardian or her parents. He knew there would be hell to pay when they got back, but for the moment, he was more worried about actually getting her there. She couldn't Apparate; she didn't even know how yet, though Harry suspected she had a good idea. He supposed she could Side-Along Apparate with him, but that made him feel a little strange...what if he splinched himself, or her?

He shook these fears off as well as he could. He'd not had much trouble with Apparating, and as long as he concentrated hard enough, it didn't matter who he had with him. Harry had to concede one point to Moony, though: they certainly could not risk Harry getting caught Apparating illegally.

" _OK, Moony_ ," Harry finally gave in. " _But I'm going first thing. Make sure Ron and Hermione get here._ "

Remus gave a cough that sounded almost like a retch. When he had recovered, he said, " _I will, Harry, and no matter what else happens, come_ _back straightaway_ _. Even if you get the locket, don't do anything with it until you get here, agreed_?"

" _Yeah,_ " Harry said, feeling at once elated and overwhelmed by the thought of actually retrieving the locket after over two months of searching for clues to its whereabouts. What would he do with it once he found it? As he and Lupin closed their conversation and Harry packed himself in readiness to travel the next day, he pushed the thought out of his mind. The answers were there, inside Dumbledore's packet. He just had to figure them out.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

At Aberforth's suggestion, Harry Flooed to the Ministry of Magic as early as it opened the next morning. Invisibility Cloaks were detectable as soon as one entered the Atrium, and he knew his hooded cloak would be frowned upon by the new security, so Harry simply attempted to keep his head down a bit as he presented his wand to the Security Wizard and proceeded down the hall to the Apparation Licensing Office.

As he had hoped, the office was empty but for a bored-looking young witch who was using her wand to change the color of her fingernails, scowling each time it did not come out exactly as she had hoped.

"I said 'rose bouquet,' not 'passion pink,'" she muttered, holding her hand out to examine her nails critically.

After waiting a moment to be noticed, Harry cleared his throat.

"Yes?" the witch snapped, abruptly putting her hand down on her desk. When she looked up and realized who she was talking to, she gasped. "Can I help you?" she asked a bit breathlessly.

"I need to take my Apparation test," Harry said quickly, trying to ignore the way the blonde witch was looking at him.

"Of course," she said, batting her eyelashes. "Just let me call the examiner." She rose from her desk and disappeared through a wooden door on the back wall.

A moment later she reappeared, and it was easily apparent that she had straightened her hair and applied more lipstick in her absence. "You're our first examinee today," she said sweetly, moving to stand right next to Harry. "You can go right on in, Mr. Potter, and I'll be here waiting to issue your license when you're finished." Her tone and her gaze made it obvious that she would be ready and willing for much more than the standard license-issuing that was part of her job.

Harry nodded, not meeting her eyes, and proceeded through the same door from which she had just emerged. After walking down a short hallway lined with moving photographs depicting nasty splinchings and other ways in which Apparation could go awry, he went through a second door and entered a large room complete with the same kind of rings they had used in the Great Hall when leaning to Apparate.

"Mr. Harry Potter, of Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?" asked a tall, aged wizard in faded chartreuse robes. Harry was relieved that this man, at least, did not seem inclined to take any more notice of him than he would have of any examinee.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed, realizing suddenly that this address was no longer correct, but not knowing what address he could use in its place.

"Step right this way, then," the wizard continued, putting a clean parchment form on his wooden clipboard.

Harry moved to the front of one of the many metal hoops in the room, feeling his insides starting to twist with nervousness. It was one thing to be caught Apparating illegally, and another to be caught Apparating illegally after you had already failed the test, not to mention his embarrassment at having to tell Ginny, Ron and Hermione that he had failed.

"We will start simply," the examiner told him. "Simply spin on the spot and Apparate right into the hoop. Please be cautious, as splinching is automatic grounds for failure."

Harry nodded, gulped, and spun on the spot. He was infinitely relieved when, after feeling the familiar sensation of being sucked through a drinking straw, he opened his eyes and realized he had indeed ended up right in the center of his hoop.

"Very good," the examiner continued. "Now, if you will kindly Apparate into the hoop I have indicated." Pointing his wand at a hoop in the far corner of the room, he caused it to glow red and hover an inch or two off the ground.

Again, Harry spun on the spot, and again, he reached his destination with no trouble whatsoever. For the next fifteen minutes, Harry felt a bit like a table tennis ball as he popped in and out of the various hoops, growing less nervous with each round. With each successful Apparation, the examiner made a small tick mark on his form.

"Very good, Mr. Potter," he muttered, scanning his sheet. "Right then; all that remains is the long-distance Apparation test. I will be waiting for you at the Apparition point in front of the Three Broomsticks. I trust you are familiar with that location?" Without waiting for an answer, the examiner Disapparated, leaving Harry staring at the spot where he had stood only a moment before.

Concentrating hard on the familiar sights of the High Street in Hogsmeade, Harry took a deep breath, spun on the spot, and was once again sucked into the vacuum, emerging a few moments later right beside the examiner, who smiled indulgently at him for the first time.

"Right-o!" the old man said cheerfully, making the final tick mark on Harry's examination sheet and signing it with a flourish before taking it off the clipboard and holding it out.

Harry took it, not exactly sure what it was to do next.

"Just go on back to the office, lad, and Miss Ackerson will be most pleased to assist you in the issuance of your official license. Congratulations, Mr. Potter."

"Thanks," Harry said, "but couldn't you just give me the license now?"

"Oh, no, no," the examiner laughed. "Don't have the proper paperwork, you see, and it is in the rules that all licenses must be issued from the Apparation Licensing Office at the Ministry. Shouldn't be much of an inconvenience for you, though, should it?" he chuckled. "Now that you can Apparate, just go straight on back to the Ministry. Mind you Apparate into the Atrium, though, as there are blocks in place once you get past those doors. We'll have you on your way in five minutes."

Harry seriously doubted that; somehow, he suspected that the news of his arrival for his test might have spread a bit. He was certain he had seen the young clerk in the Apparation office folding a paper airplane as he had gone past her desk. Before he could protest, however, the examiner Disapparated, leaving Harry once again staring at the space he had occupied only moments before.

With a sigh, Harry went back to the Ministry, reflecting that, while Apparation was still rather uncomfortable, it made traveling much simpler.

Upon arriving back to the Ministry Atrium, Harry realized he had not been incorrect in his assumption about the clerk's interdepartmental memo. Rufus Scrimgeour himself was standing in an attitude of forced nonchalance next to the security desk, and he laughed a bit too heartily when the Security Wizard once again asked to inspect Harry's wand.

"Now, now, Eric, it certainly isn't as though Mr. Potter is here to attack the Ministry! Consider him like a staff member from here, won't you, and allow him to pass into the normal areas of the Ministry without inspection."

"Certainly, Minister," Eric said politely, but Harry, whose mind was reeling with this unexpected greeting, could tell that the Security Wizard was not at all happy about letting him pass without the customary search.

"A staff member?" Harry asked quietly but furiously once he and Scrimgeour had gotten past the desk and were going down the hall that Harry recognized as the one leading to the elevators. "I'm not on staff here, Minister." For once, Harry was not confused; he knew exactly what kind of game Scrimgeour was trying to play.

"Of course not, of course not," Scrimgeour said as he ordered an elevator to take them to Level One, where the Minister's offices were situated. His genial demeanor had already vanished, leaving him with the definite look of a businessman and a politician.

Once they were inside the polished office of the Minister for Magic, Scrimgeour rounded on Harry. "I've been waiting to speak with you, Mr. Potter, but as you opted not to return to school and no one seems to be willing to reveal your whereabouts, I've had a most difficult time tracking you down."

"Speak to me about what?" Harry asked coolly. He was not about to spend half the day exchanging words with Scrimgeour when he needed to get to Edinburgh as soon as he possibly could.

"Joining the Ministry, of course. I heard tell from another staff member that you aspire to become an Auror?"

Harry was momentarily kerflummoxed. For all his joking with Ginny about how the Auror Corps would be willing to take him on if he defeated Voldemort, he certainly had not expected this.

When Harry did not reply, Scrimgeour looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Normally we would not even consider accepting one so young into the program, Mr. Potter, but given your...accomplishments...I believe we could make an exception."

Harry shook his head. "No thanks, just the same," he replied.

Scrimgeour looked slightly surprised as he irritably smoothed out his navy Auror's robes, which he continued to wear to give the people confidence in his ability to track down and dispose of Voldemort and his followers. "Would you prefer, then, a more inactive role in helping the Ministry?"

"No, thanks," Harry said. "If that's all..." He began to edge back towards the door.

Scrimgeour stared at him for a moment, clearly surprised that Harry had not taken the opportunity to join the Aurors at least a year before he could have done normally. He wondered if he had been given bad information on the Potter boy, but it seemed that no one who actually knew him was willing to discuss him.

"That's all for now," he finally said, emphasizing the last two words.

Harry nodded and left the office, taking the elevator directly back down to the Atrium level, where he ignored the desk clerk's obvious advances and got his license hurriedly before Apparating back into Aberforth's garden. It was only a bit after nine in the morning, but to Harry, it felt as though the entire day had already passed.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

After grabbing his pack from his room and asking Aberforth to get word to Grimmauld Place that it was time for Ron and Hermione to meet him, Harry carefully donned his Invisibility Cloak and set off through the village for the wide path that led to Hogwarts.

He hardly noticed the crisp, late-September air as he hurried towards the gates, checking his wristwatch to ensure that he would be able to meet Ginny as soon as her first class was finished. He was cutting it very fine; he had less than five minutes to be outside the door of Professor Flitwick's classroom, ready to murmur the signal words to her as she passed. They had perfected this method over the past couple of weeks; otherwise, Ginny would have no way of reliably knowing when Harry was in the castle, as she could hardly check the Marauder's Map in each class without being detected.

Harry was slightly out of breath by the time he reached the Charms corridor, but he saw with relief that the bell would not ring for another minute and a half. Flattening himself carefully against the wall outside the door, he waited.

Ginny was one of the last to leave the classroom, and as he saw her familiar red head coming, he murmured "look out for Peeves" as softly as he could. The theory was that this was such a common phrase that even if one of the surrounding students heard it, they would not find anything amiss. This morning, a sixth-year Ravenclaw leaving just behind Ginny began looking wildly around, not for the source of the voice, but for Peeves himself.

Ginny giggled and nodded her head imperceptibly as she continued walking with the rest of her class. Three minutes later, she kissed him as he took off the Invisibility Cloak, concealed safely inside one of the lesser-known secret passages between the fourth and second floors. "How are you, love?" she asked, seeming almost giddy.

"Got my license," Harry said. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," Ginny replied, looking excited and nervous at the same time. "My things are in the broom cupboard off the Entrance Hall, and just in case, I shrunk them and hid them under a bucket."

"Brilliant," Harry said, kissing her one again and wishing they had time for more, but the bell had already rung to signal the start of the next class and he knew they needed to get going. "Ron and Hermione will be waiting at the pub." He swung the Invisibility Cloak around them and, after Ginny checked the map to make sure no one was in the corridor that might see the tapestry move as they passed, they proceeded slowly and carefully down to the Entrance Hall. After checking to make sure the coast was still clear, Ginny carefully removed a bag that had been enchanted to look the size of a coin purse, her broomstick, and Bono's cage from the closet.

"Is that all you brought?" Harry asked. "What about your books and everything?" He was still fiercely adamant that she realize her dream of becoming a Healer, and he didn't see how she was going to do that if she didn't study.

Ginny rolled her eyes as she stowed her shrunken belongings into her pockets and they proceeded carefully to the front doors. "Honestly, Harry," she said amusedly, "do you really think Hermione will have overlooked that? We've got it all arranged. I may need to order some things from Dervish and Banges or Flourish and Blotts, but she'll have most of what I need already."

"When did the two of you have time to arrange all of this?" Harry asked curiously as they carefully slipped through the doors and out onto the grounds, careful not to talk too loudly lest they attract the attention of the first-years taking their flying lessons.

Ginny giggled softly, her excitement and nerves such that she found almost everything funny. "Dearest," she said with mock seriousness, "did you really think that you were the only person I've written to since I've gone back to school?"

Harry blushed just a little. Of course Ginny would be writing to Ron and Hermione, and she had probably written to her mother as well. With this thought in his mind, Harry asked, "Did you leave any kind of a note for your mum?"

Ginny frowned. "No," she answered simply. "But I'll get in touch with her soon. I really don't want her to be upset, Harry, but I think this is more important."

Harry said nothing; he was not looking forward to being the subject of Molly Weasley's wrath when she realized Ginny had left school.

Ginny squeezed his hand softly as they reached the Hogwarts gates, looking around anxiously to make sure no one would see them open. They seemed safe enough; Professor Grubbly-Plank had taken her students into the forest and the flying lessons were on the other side of the courtyard.

"Please don't worry about this right now," Ginny said. "It will all work out, love. I promise."

"We need to get going," Harry said abruptly, steeling himself for his first attempt at Side-Along Apparation as soon as they were officially off the Hogwarts grounds. "Grab onto my arm and hold on tight. You've done this before, I know, but I haven't, so just hold on, ok?"

"Ok," Ginny said, taking hold of his upper arm with complete confidence. "But you have done it before, you know."

"I have?" Harry asked.

"You brought Petunia back to Grimmauld Place," she reminded him gently.

Harry was startled. He had done everything he could to forget his last night on Privet Drive, and in all the confusion of the battle he had not really considered the difficulty of Apparation when he had taken Aunt Petunia out of the house; he had just done it because it was what needed to be done.

"Yeah," he said a bit more confidently. "Ok. Hold on." Taking a deep breath, he Disapparated, feeling Ginny's firm hold on his arm for the split second they were traveling before they reached the pub.

Ron and Hermione were waiting for them, sipping pumpkin juice at the small wrought iron garden table. Before they were even within earshot, Harry could tell how excited Hermione was about the garden itself.

"It's not what you would have expected, is it?" she asked Ron, gesturing at the lush flowers surrounding them. "But I think that makes it all the more magical; it is such a wonderful surprise. I can see why Dumble- "

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, and his face immediately turned red as he saw his sister emerge from around the corner, right behind his best mate. "Ginny? What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"I'm coming, too," Ginny answered quickly.

"Like hell - " Ron began, but Hermione interrupted.

"We haven't got time for this," she said impatiently. "Ginny's already got everything worked out, and somehow I don't think anyone's going to stop her, so let's get to Edinburgh before Mundungus finds out he's being looked for."

Harry shot Hermione an infinitely grateful look; it wasn't like her to encourage any sort of rule breaking, and he knew that it was costing her every bit of self-restraint she possessed not to ask Ginny just one more time to stay at school.

Ron, however, wasn't finished. He rounded on Harry, shoving him back a little and getting right in his face. "You think you're going to - "

"Bring her?" Harry asked resignedly, having strongly suspected that this would happen. "Yeah, she's coming. If she doesn't, she's just going to try to follow us anyway, and that is too dangerous. Besides," he said, squeezing Ginny's hand, "I need her."

"What do you need her for?" Ron raged, now pacing agitatedly up and down the path, his ears visibly red under the carrot-colored hair.

"Ronald Weasley, this is all very entertaining," said Hermione sarcastically, "but in case you didn't notice, we've got a bit more to do right now than shout at one another. If you want to get to Mundungus Fletcher before he disappears, then we have to leave now."

Ron looked for a moment as though he were considering seriously whether what he wanted to say to Harry and Ginny might be more important than catching Mundungus Fletcher, but in the end, he nodded, shooting murderous looks at both of them as he did so.

As Hermione turned away to pick up her things, Ron abruptly grabbed a fistful of Harry's robes. "This isn't over," he warned, his voice angrier than Harry had ever heard it. "You had no right to bring her along, and - "

"Ron, let go of him," Ginny cried as she realized what was happening. "This was my choice; this is what I want, and it's not down to you to order me or Harry about!"

Those words seemed to do little to calm her big brother; on the contrary, he looked even more furious as he stalked over to retrieve his own pack and returned to the group.

"On three, then, to the address we discussed," said Hermione in a business-like tone. "Ginny, have you got a firm hold on Harry?"

"Yes, thank you," Ginny said firmly, glaring at Ron.

"On three," Hermione repeated. "One...two..."

With a loud 'pop', the four teenagers Disapparated as one.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

It did not take them long to find Mundungus Fletcher's flat. Just as Aberforth had predicted, the address was not far from the wizarding pub to which they had Apparated. After only a few minutes' walk with the aid of the map of Edinburgh Hermione had brought, they were standing in front of an aged and dingy brick building that looked as though it might have once been an institution of some sort.

Mundungus' flat was located on the first floor, about halfway down a hall lit dimly by aged electric lights and covered in a threadbare carpet which might once have been red, but was now stained almost black with mud and the grime of hundreds of shoes over the years. Hermione motioned for the others to be quiet, looked quickly up and down the hall, and then pressed her ear to the door.

"He's there," she whispered. "Watching the television, from the sound of it."

"He's got a television?" Ginny asked with interest; she had only seen television sets in the windows of Muggle electronic stores on the few occasions she had traveled outside of regular wizarding society.

"A tele - what?" Ron asked, looking at the other three like they had all suddenly grown chicken heads.

"Television, Ron," Hermione said repressively. "Now stand back." She looked up and down the hall once again before drawing her wand and waving it over the door in a complicated motion, muttering an incantation in Latin under her breath.

"What are you doing?" Ron whispered loudly.

"Anti-Apparation Charm," Hermione whispered back. "That's one of the things I was studying at Grimmauld Place. Are you ready to go in, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. Before they had arrived in Edinburgh, he had been so focused on Apparating there safely with Ginny that he hadn't thought too much about what they were about to do. Now that the time had come, however, he felt a rush of expectation and nervousness. They were finally getting somewhere. "Let's do it," he whispered.

" _Alohomora_!" Ginny whispered, jabbing her wand towards the door a little too enthusiastically in her haste to get inside; she had a major bone to pick with the man who had deserted her father in battle. The door flew open with a crash against the opposing wall, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny rushed inside, wands drawn.

Mundungus Fletcher had obviously come to like the ancient television that had been supplied in the furnished Muggle apartment he had rented for a cheap price. By all the evidence, it appeared that he spent most of his time sitting in the bedraggled armchair; food leftovers, liquor bottles and rubbish were piled around it so that anyone who wanted to sit in the chair would have had to step high to avoid plowing straight through the mess.

He jumped up when the door banged open, and stared at the four of them incredulously as Hermione shut the door behind them and sealed it with her wand, casting an Imperturbable Charm on it for good measure; they did not want to be overheard. By the time she had finished doing that, Mundungus had leapt from his chair with surprising speed and glared at them for a moment before spinning on the spot, losing his balance and landing ridiculously in a heap on the floor.

"Ya cast an Anti-Apparation charm?" he asked blankly, looking up at them with a small measure of fear in his eyes. "Where'd ya learn to do that?"

"Books," Hermione replied curtly as she moved around the small flat, casting charms on the windows, doors, and even the thin walls to ensure that they could conduct their interview in complete privacy.

"Yer a bright witch, ya are," Mundungus wheedled, obviously trying for flattery.

"Don't talk to her," Ron hissed, breathing heavily through his nose; Harry did not even have to look back at him to know that his face would be entirely red, and Ginny's vise-like grip on his hand gave evidence that she was quite as furious as her brother.

"What'd ya come ta find me for?" Mundungus asked plaintively. "I ain't done nothin' - "

He got no further with his plea. At that very moment, Ron and Ginny both sprang from behind Harry, and before he or Hermione could stop them, they landed on either side of Mundungus, breathing heavily, each of their wands trained right on his startled face.


	7. A Piece of Immortality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the search for Slytherin's locket grows narrower, Harry and his friends must race against the clock before it falls into the wrong hands. While they are confronting some of the more questionable members of Wizarding society, Remus Lupin is becoming sicker with each passing day. And what will happen when Molly realizes Ginny has left school?

Remus Lupin made a face at the steaming goblet in his hands, his stomach twisting unpleasantly in anticipation of the horrid taste of the Wolfsbane potion. He sighed. For the past three days, it had been difficult to keep down even the simplest of foods, and taking the potion the previous day had been nothing short of torture. The only thing that had kept him from vomiting as he drank the bitter, sludge-like substance was firm willpower and the knowledge that the teenagers sharing Grimmauld Place with him would not be safe unless he was able to drink the goblet in its entirety.

He gulped dryly, still staring into the murky contents of the goblet. Finally, desperately, he resolved to try the method his mother had once used whenever he had needed a dose of the hated Pepper Up potion as a child. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pinched his nose firmly closed with one hand and brought the goblet to his lips.

No amount of willpower would keep it down today. As soon as the noxious liquid hit his throat, Remus retched violently, the meager remains of the toast and tea he had consumed for breakfast splattering on the floor and the goblet flying out of his hand. He dropped to his knees, heaving, his body feeling more weak and worn than he could ever remember. As his stomach calmed, he dropped his chin to his chest, breathing through his mouth to avoid the stench of the puddle of sick on the floor and the steaming remains of his potion dripping from the wall opposite him.

" _Scourgify_ ," he muttered weakly, pointing his wand at the mess, which immediately vanished. Not for nothing had he lived as a bachelor for all these years; he had long since learned that simple cleaning spells were a necessary part of life unless one was content either to live in squalor or to buy Muggle cleaning products, whose effectiveness was often debatable.

Mopping his face with a ragged handkerchief, Remus got shakily to his feet, grabbing the old iron bedstead for support as he willed his head to stop spinning. He had been sick on other occasions, of course, but the level of his nausea was worrisome. He wondered whether he had eaten something rotten without meaning to or if he just had a case of influenza.

As he steadied himself, he knew that he had to make preparations for his transformation in two days. He could not think of a safer place to go than Headquarters, but neither was he willing to put Ron, Hermione and Harry at risk when they returned from their discussion with Mundungus Fletcher.

For the briefest of moments, Lupin smiled wryly. He really did wish that he was able to go see the spectacle that was sure to be unfolding at this very moment. Harry and the others, quite apart from trying to find the locket, were furious with Dung for deserting Arthur on Privet Drive. Remus was not happy with him either, but after dealing with him for years, he was more used to Mundungus's brand of self-preservation as well as his lack of what most people considered to be common courtesy or morality.

Another wave of nausea threatened to overtake him as he took the smallest sip of cool water in an attempt to scourge the bitter taste from his mouth, and he spent the next few moments with one hand clasped on each side of the small table on which his water jug was situated, his head bowed as his stomach again threatened rebellion. _Get hold of yourself, man,_ he told himself sternly, knowing that he had much he had to accomplish before the teens came back from Edinburgh.

Slowly and unsteadily, the pale and sweaty werewolf made his way down three flights of steps and into the kitchen, where he tried not to look at the stale loaf of bread and ripe fruit on the countertops as he staggered to the cellar door. Once he had navigated the steep staircase, he looked around the stone room, cluttered with miscellaneous objects and the huge, old-fashioned boiler in the corner. He knew that it would do just fine for his transformation, and he grimaced in anticipation of transforming without the aid of the Wolfsbane potion as he began preparing the room to hold him securely until he was once again safe.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

" _Expelliarmus_!" Harry and Hermione cried as one, easily catching Ron and Ginny's wands as they flew through the air.

Ginny rounded on Harry just as Ron faced Hermione, both of their faces bright red with anger.

"What'd ya want ta go an' do that for?" Mundungus asked plaintively to the two redheads, just as Ron angrily demanded his wand back from Hermione.

"We've got more important things to discuss," Harry said firmly, keeping his gaze locked on Ginny, who looked at him mutinously.

"He abandoned -" Ginny began hotly, but Hermione interrupted her.

"I know he did," she said calmly, pocketing Ron's wand with a glance at him that dared him to try to retrieve it, "and the Order knows where he is now. They will deal with him, I'm sure," she continued, shooting a contemptuous gaze at Mundungus, who looked shocked and more than a little afraid.

Harry nodded his agreement, his eyes pleading with Ginny to understand why he had done what he had just done. If Mundungus was hexed as soundly as he deserved to be, they were not likely to get the information they needed from him, and as much as Harry hated him for betraying Mr. Weasley in battle, the locket was more important. For good measure, Harry shot out his hand and retrieved Mundungus's wand as well. He did not like Ron and Ginny to be defenseless, but one gaze at their red faces told him that they could not be trusted with their wands just yet.

"Tha's mine!" Mundungus protested weakly. Harry ignored him.

"Sit down," he ordered, pointing his own wand at the armchair Mundungus had just vacated. Recognizing that he was trapped, Mundungus obeyed.

"Now," Harry said, staring the older man straight in the eye, "let's talk about the stuff you nicked from Headquarters."

"I didn't - " Mundungus began.

"You did," Hermione interrupted quite calmly, placing a hand in one of her pockets and staring at him.

"Never took nothin' from Head -" he began, but he broke off, his eyes widening, as Hermione removed a small bottle of colorless liquid from her pocket. "Is that -"

"Veritaserum," Hermione confirmed, and Harry glanced at her, astonished.

"About Headquarters," Harry continued, trying to look as though he had known what Hermione had been carrying all along.

"I'm tellin' ya, I didn't do nothin' wrong!" Mundungus protested, his eyes trained on the bottle Hermione was holding aloft.

"Really?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. He turned to Hermione. "I reckon we'll just have to - " he began, indicating the bottle.

"Right," Hermione replied coolly, uncorking the bottle with a small, sucking 'pop.'

"We could probably find out about loads of other stuff while we were at it," Ginny said conversationally, cottoning on as she struggled to let go of her annoyance with Harry.

"Yeah, always knew he deserved Azkaban," Ron said fiercely.

Harry pointed his wand at Mundungus's face while Hermione moved in with the bottle. "Reckon we'll have to force it down his throat, Hermione," he said, drawing back his wand as though preparing to cast a petrifying jinx.

"All right," Mundungus said somewhat frantically. "All right, I took a few things, but nothin' nobody would miss. I got debts to be paid, see, and - "

"We really don't care to hear about your debts, Mr. Fletcher," Hermione said imperiously, recorking the bottle and replacing it in her pocket.

"You just thought you'd go in and nick whatever you could lay your hands on, did you?" Harry said, becoming angry as he thought about his godfather's belongings being treated so cavalierly.

"I jus' went in the basement," Mundungus whined. "Old stuff no one cared for down there, shoved under the boiler like rubbish."

The four teenagers exchanged a glance. If Kreacher had indeed gotten the locket and taken it down to his 'room,' it looked as though Mundungus might have gotten his hands on it.

With difficulty, Harry kept his voice even. "And was there a locket among this 'rubbish?'" he asked coldly.

Mundungus grew obviously uncomfortable. The truth was that the locket he had found had been the only thing that had been of any real value among the broken picture frames and old goblets.

"No," Mundungus answered finally, but his hesitation had been all the teenagers had needed to confirm the answer.

"Where is it?" Harry asked in a low, threatening voice. "Have you sold it yet?"

"I told ya, I don't have it," Mundungus repeated, trying for an innocent tone but failing miserably.

Harry turned to Hermione and nodded. She stuck her hand into her pocket, withdrew Ron's wand and handed it to him, just as Harry did the same with Ginny. Mundungus's eyes widened.

"If he hasn't seen it, he's of no use," Harry said dismissively, turning his back as Ron and Ginny once again trained their wands on the older man's face.

"All right," Mundungus said in alarm as Ron and Ginny raised their wands in preparation to express their displeasure. "I got some kind of a necklace down there," he said resignedly. "Was the only thing that was worth anything, turns out."

"You sold it?" Harry asked, his insides sinking. Slytherin's locket, once it was authenticated, would have been an acquisition Voldemort would have been eager to make even if it was not a horcrux. If Mundungus had sold it, it was very possible that the locket had already come into the wrong hands.

"Yeah," Mundungus grunted, but with Ron's and Ginny's wands trained on him still, he seemed almost eager to share his information. "To a bloke named Fernie Itchering. He robbed me, he did. That locket was worth so much more than - "

"Fernie Itchering?" Harry interrupted, dumbfounded. If Fletcher was telling the truth, Harry had seen the man who had purchased the locket every single day since he had come to the Hog's Head at the start of term.

"Old drunk," Mundungus confirmed contemptuously, shaking his head in disgust and seeming not to take into account that the litter of whisky bottles on the floor rendered him an obvious hypocrite. "Sold it to him a couple a week's ago. Needed a place to stay, you see, an' I - "

"A place to hide, you mean," Ginny interrupted coldly.

Mundungus regarded her mournfully. "Guess I owe you lot a 'pology," he muttered, and Harry was reminded forcibly of the last time he had heard the man say this very thing, before his fifth year when he had been forced to use magic against the dementors in Little Whinging because Mundungus had gone off in search of stolen cauldrons. His insides burned with suppressed rage.

"Ya seem to have come off all right," Mundungus said hopefully.

"It's time to go," Harry said, ignoring him completely and turning towards the door.

A large 'crack' made him stop in his tracks and turn suddenly to see Ginny, her hand still raised, standing over Mundungus, who now had the beginnings of a scarlet red handprint on one cheek. She switched her wand to her other hand and slapped him again on the other cheek, so forcefully that his head snapped to the side. The other three gaped at her. They would not have been surprised if she had hexed him, but this was certainly unexpected.

"That was because my mother won't do it," Ginny spat, breathing heavily. "Stay away from my family, _Dung_ , or you'll be sorry you didn't." With that, she spun on her heel, grabbed Harry's arm, and led them out the door.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Three loud 'pops' announced the arrival of the four teenagers back into Aberforth's back garden, and Ron wasted no time in rounding on Harry, seeming to have forgotten everything that had happened in Edinburgh as though they had never left the garden.

"She's not coming with us! She's going back to school!" he shouted, grabbing the front of Harry's robes and shoving him slightly.

Harry stumbled back, having been completely unprepared for this attack. His mind was still on the locket and the best way to approach Itchering that afternoon. He gaped at Ron, who was as red faced as he had been when facing Mundungus Fletcher. Harry didn't know what to say, but he began, "Look, mate, I...she..." He stopped, feeling stupid.

"Ginny wanted to come," Hermione said simply, stepping between Harry and Ron.

Ron stared incredulously at her. "She's my sister," he said loudly, as though this explained everything.

"That's right," Ginny yelled, pushing past Hermione to get at Ron. "I'm your sister, not your daughter, so get out of it!"

"Bloody right you're not my daughter," Ron retorted. "But what do you think Mum and Dad will say when they find out?"

"We'll tell them together," Harry said quietly, having dreaded this ever since he had told Ginny she could come with him, but Ron and Ginny paid him no heed. They were starting inches apart, their chests heaving as they breathed angrily.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione whispered, tugging at his sleeves. "They have to work this out themselves."

Harry resisted, unwilling to leave Ginny to face such an angry Ron on her own. "Ron, mate," he began futilely. "She would have just - "

"Get out of it, Harry," Ginny said dismissively. " _Ronald_ and I have needed to have this discussion for quite some time now." She turned back to her brother. "Haven't we?" she asked icily, her face quite as red as Ron's.

"You're not of age, and it's too bloody dangerous," Ron hissed. "And you're not coming, and that's final, Ginevra Weasley." He sounded so much like his mother that Harry and Hermione both had to bite back a laugh.

Ginny hissed angrily and drew her wand as Hermione tugged insistently at Harry's robes. "Come on, Harry," she whispered. "You're not helping."

Harry took one last look at the two youngest Weasleys, both of whom were determinedly ignoring him and Hermione and staring daggers at one another. They really didn't have time for this, but Ginny had been right about one thing: she and Ron needed to talk. With a great sigh of mingled annoyance and resignation, he followed Hermione to the staircase leading to his room, trying to ignore the increasingly loud shouts coming from the siblings behind him.

"Go talk to Aberforth," Hermione instructed as soon as the door had closed behind them and they were making their way up the stone staircase. "Tell him what we found out, and have him send the Order after Mundungus. I'm going to take a look at the translations you asked for. Ron and Ginny will come back soon enough."

"What if he - " Harry began, but he wasn't quite sure how to phrase the question. He knew Ron would never intentionally hurt his little sister, but they had been so angry that he wasn't sure about anything.

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione sighed. "If we need to worry about either one of them, it's Ron, not Ginny. Now go. They'll be fine, and we've got to move forward with this."

Harry reluctantly conceded the point, wondering if Ron would have giant bogeys attacking his face the next time they met. He smiled slightly as he changed into his tattered, second-hand cloak for the trip down to the main room of the Hog's Head. He knew now that he wanted Ginny to be with them, but at the same time, he couldn't help feeling just a little bit sorry for his best friend.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

To Harry's immense disappointment, no one was in the pub when he went down to meet Aberforth. Fernie Itchering and some of the other regulars often showed up around lunchtime and stayed until the pub closed, but today this didn't seem to be the case. _Still_ , Harry thought as he went to the bar and waited for Aberforth to finish restocking the liquor cupboard, _at least I don't have to pretend to be drunk this time._

"How'd it go?" Aberforth asked quietly, using his wand to force easy-measure tops on each bottle of liquor on the shelf behind the bar.

"He'd already sold the locket," Harry said, seating himself on one of the familiar wooden barstools.

"Did he say who he sold it to?" Aberforth asked with interest, his eyes continually scanning the pub for any sign of eavesdroppers.

"Yeah," Harry said, leaning forward. "Fernie Itchering."

Aberforth's eyes widened and the bottle he was working on suddenly exploded, showering them both with mead. "Sorry," he blustered, hurriedly extending his wand to remove a small shard of blue glass from Harry's cheek. "You surprised me and this old wand reacts to me a little too readily these days."

"It's OK," Harry said, wiping burning liquid from his eyes and noticing yet again the startling disparity in the magical finesse Dumbledore had always exhibited and the rather unpredictable brand of spellwork Aberforth used. "Can you tell me where he lives?" he asked hopefully, wanting this to be much simpler and quicker than tracking down Mundungus Fletcher. Harry, who had tossed Dung's wand back at him as they had left the flat in Edinburgh, knew that it was possible that Itchering had already been contacted and could, even now, be trying to avoid them. Even knowing that, however, Harry had been unwilling to leave the man defenseless.

"He don't live far from here," Aberforth grunted, lowering his voice as two figures who appeared to be hags came through the door and approached the bar. Turning his back on Harry, he served them two steaming black drinks, nodding irritably at a table in the far corner of the pub. When he was certain they were no longer paying attention, Aberforth scribbled something on a bit of parchment and slid it across the bar to Harry, who pocketed it without reading it.

"If yer not goin' to have a drink, get off wit' ya," Aberforth said loudly and gruffly, making sure the hags could hear them. "This pub ain't for non-payin' customers, and I ain't got no time to listen to yer raving."

Harry, recognizing Aberforth's favorite method of letting him know that it was no longer safe to talk, hopped off his barstool and headed back up to his room, hoping Ron and Ginny had resolved their disagreement and were ready to accompany him to Itchering's flat.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

"You think just because you're dating Harry you get to come along with us!" Ron yelled, pulling out his own wand and aiming it at Ginny as soon as Harry and Hermione had disappeared through the door to the staircase. "I've been with Harry for over six years now! You have no idea what you're - "

"Getting myself into, do I?" Ginny shouted back, jabbing her wand at him for emphasis and causing several gold sparks to emit from the end. "You seem to forget that I was at the Ministry over a year ago, and I was in Hyde Park when..." For a moment, she faltered. Even in her anger, it was difficult to speak out loud of her time alone with Voldemort or of Dumbledore's death. "The point is," she said coldly, "I've been through just as much as you have!"

"You're forgetting the time when you got possessed and could have killed a whole lot of people, not to mention almost dying yourself," Ron said, wincing a little at the harshness of his words but not backing down.

Ginny's glare became even fiercer. "And what about the time you covered yourself in brains, Ron? At least my mistakes happened when I was only a first-year. You, on the other hand, don't ever seem to learn."

Ron raised his wand angrily, actually ready to hex his little sister for that comment, but he faltered when a loud 'pop' alerted both of them that they were no longer alone. He and Ginny spun as one, their wands pointed in the direction from which they had heard the sound. Their argument, for the moment, was forgotten.

To their great surprise they found themselves aiming their wands above the intruder, rather than at his chest as they had instinctively intended. A very old house-elf stood with his small, wrinkled arms crossed over an immaculately clean pillowcase toga. The elf was glaring at him angrily as they lowered their wands to his height, staring at him in confusion.

"And who is it that disturbs the peace of this garden?" the elf demanded. "You were not invited here."

"We were, actually," said Ginny, recovering first and attempting to curtail the anger that was still pulsing throughout her body. "Harry brought us. You know Harry Potter?" She knew that this must be Kibbly, the Dumbledore's house-elf. Remembering what Harry had said about his fierce protectiveness, she was cautious, not wanting to anger the elf further.

"Ah, yes. 'Friends' of Harry Potter, are you?" the house-elf said with a surly air to his voice, as though he found it hard to believe.

"I'm his girlfriend, Ginny Weasley" Ginny said quietly, "and this," she jabbed her wand a little too fiercely towards Ron, "is my brother, Ron."

"I'm his best mate," Ron said a little defensively, glaring sideways at his sister. "We're here to help him."

"Harry Potter does not need such 'help,'" Kibbly stated flatly. "Harry Potter requires loyal friends who will stay with him in his time of need, not children who fight amongst themselves."

Ron and Ginny exchanged an astonished glance, unable to believe that they were being told off by a house-elf who was no more than half of Ginny's height. They had both been amused by Harry's stories about Kibbly, but nothing could have prepared them for this. Obviously, Harry had been quite correct in telling them that this was no ordinary elf.

"Erm," Ron said uncomfortably, not quite able to meet Kibbly's gaze.

"Harry Potter requests that his 'friends' meet him in his room," Kibbly said, glaring at them once more before disapparating with another loud 'pop'.

"Why did that elf say we weren't invited if Harry told him to come and fetch us?" Ron asked in confusion, staring at the spot where the elf had been only a moment before.

"He obviously feels that we don't come up to snuff as people Harry should have brought here," Ginny said, feeling a little ashamed of herself. She sighed. "Look, Ron, Harry needs all of us with him. If you really think about it, you'll know that. I only want to help him, to be with him, just like you."

"But I - " Ron began feebly.

"I know you care about me and don't want me to get hurt," Ginny said, trying to be gentle. "I feel the same way about you, as well as Harry and Hermione, but this is more important. We've got to be with Harry now."

"I don't - " Ron tried to continue, but Ginny flared up again.

"Look, if you're not going to get this through your astoundingly thick skull, then we'll have to settle it later," she said, glaring at him and once again holding her wand at the ready. "Only next time, I won't be so friendly about it, will I? You're not going to stop me, so just get over it and focus your energy on doing the job we've come to do." Without waiting for a response, Ginny turned abruptly and strode towards the door to Harry's room. Still looking as though he didn't know what to think or what to do, Ron followed her.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Ron and Ginny were unusually silent as the four teenagers made their way down the dark alley beside the Hog's Head, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Harry was looking now at dingy signs for the building in which Fernie Itchering kept his flat. He was surprised that he had never before realized that, like any Muggle town he had ever been to, Hogsmeade had a darker section than that which was usually frequented by the students.

They passed very few other people on the road, which was just as well. Though Harry's tattered cloak fit right in with the general feel of the neighborhood, the newer and much cleaner cloaks worn by the other three were quite noticeable.

"This is it," Harry announced grimly as they reached a ramshackle building with obviously magical additions sticking out from all angles. As Hermione and Ginny gaped at a garden seemingly floating on air out the side window of a flat on the second floor, Harry looked at a list of numbers posted on the wall. "It's on the third floor," he told the others quietly, and without a word, they all followed him, a sense of foreboding filling their hearts as they ascended a creaky wooden staircase towards the top of the building.

When they reached the door of Itchering's flat, Hermione reached up and rapped smartly on the decaying wood before standing back and waiting to see whether or not the door would be answered.

"Go 'way," a rough voice, which sounded like it belonged to someone who had just been ripped unpleasantly from a deep sleep, answered.

"Please, sir, we need to see you," Hermione called out to him in the sort of voice she usually reserved for professors. "We're terribly sorry to bother you, but it's quite important."

Harry, Ron and Ginny clucked impatiently as Hermione's polite wheedling seemed to have no effect whatsoever. After another try which produced nothing but a grunt from the other side of the door, Hermione sighed and pulled out her wand. " _Alohomora_!" she said.

The lock clicked noisily back, and Harry stepped forward to open the door and lead the others inside, his right hand gripping his wand but holding it down.

The inside of the flat strongly resembled the Muggle apartment Mundungus had rented in Edinburgh. Though there was not a Muggle appliance to be found, the threadbare and worn furniture and, more noticeably, the piles of rubbish and spoiled food on the floor spoke strongly of the inhabitant's character and proclivities. Deprived of the entertainment a television might have provided, Itchering seemed to have a particular interest in _Playwizard_ magazines, several of which were on the littered end table, the inhabitants of the pictures shooting seductive glances at Harry and Ron, who stood for a moment, transfixed.

Hermione and Ginny pulled Ron and Harry back, and it seemed for a moment that they were about to give them a telling off, when Fernie Itchering appeared in the doorway that obviously led to his bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes even as he held a wand on the four trespassers.

"Get out," he said roughly, without even asking them what they were doing in his flat.

"We're here to discuss some business with you," Harry said with sudden inspiration while the others made ready to draw their own wands. Keeping his right hand clutched around the handle of his wand, Harry casually placed his left hand in the pocket of his robes, moving it around slightly to jangle the small bit of gold he was carrying.

There was no mistaking the greedy interest which came into the older man's eyes at the sound of the clinking coinage and Harry had to bite back a chuckle at the speed at which Itchering arranged his heavily lined and whiskered face into what he obviously thought was an accommodating expression.

"Business, yeh say?" Itchering asked as his eyes looked away from his visitors and began scanning the room. Finally finding what he was looking for and apparently having decided that the four teens in his flat were not a threat to him, he strode toward the filthy kitchen and seized a bottle from the counter.

"Business," Harry repeated firmly as Itchering unscrewed the lid of a new bottle of cheap firewhisky and took a long draught. "I heard that you've come into several new items recently and I'm interested in purchasing at least one of them." For good measure, Harry clinked the coins in his pocket once again.

Wiping his mouth with the back of a dirt-caked hand, Itchering nodded solicitously at him and indicated that the four of them should sit atop the cluttered sofa, which might once have been yellow. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry obeyed, the girls wrinkling their noses in distaste as they perched on the edge of the sofa as though they wanted as little contact with it as possible.

"An' what items might those be?" Itchering asked after he had taken another long gulp from his bottle.

"This and that," Harry said casually, not wanting to seem too eager.

Plopping down in an armchair next to the sofa, Itchering seemed oblivious to the fact that all four teenagers suddenly stopped breathing, having caught their first real whiff of his stench.

Harry recovered first, having become used to the horrible smells of old whisky, morning breath and sweat from his nightly visits to the Hog's Head pub. He waited for Itchering to speak.

"I've, er, acquired several items of interest," Itchering said, leaning forward, "but yeh've obviously 'eard about summat, or yeh wouldn' be here this early, would yeh?"

Ignoring the fact that it was well after noon and not early in the least, Harry also leaned forward, willing himself not to recoil as the stench grew stronger. "I'm told that you bought a gold locket a couple of weeks ago," he said nonchalantly.

"Present fer yer girlfriend, eh?" Itchering replied, leering at Ginny, who was sitting closest to Harry.

Trying to ignore the rage that blossomed in his chest when Itchering looked at Ginny, Harry nodded. "It's just what I've been looking for," he said. "How much would you want for it?" He clinked his coins again.

Itchering looked at him, frowning. "I don' have th' locket no more," he said. "Sold it not three days ago to a bloke 'oo came in th' pub. Done business with 'im before, yeh see, an' I didn't know yeh'd be interested. I've seen yeh before, yeh know."

Harry had not realized that Itchering would have recognized him. Pulling the hood of his cloak a bit further down his face in an effort to make sure his scar remained hidden, he asked, "Who did you sell it to?" Harry tried to keep the desperation from his voice, but he was suddenly very afraid that the locket might already be back in Voldemort's hands.

"Borgin," Itchering grunted. "Cheapskate," he muttered. "Woulda sold it to yeh, I would've. Yeh seem like a man of, er, principals." His eyes strayed to Harry's pocket. "Yeh wouldn't've cheated me, would yeh?"

"Borgin," Hermione interjected, "from Borgin & Burkes on Knockturn Alley?"

"Aye," Itchering grunted, taking another swig of his whisky and dribbling a fair bit of it down the front of his robes. "Yeh should've said summat sooner. Had that locket on me in th' pub every nigh'. Not safe to leave valuables 'ere." He seemed to be becoming more talkative and bitterer about his missed sale with each draught of the whisky.

Harry's insides twisted unpleasantly. Whether this was because the locket had been in his close proximity every night without his knowledge or because his stomach was beginning to revolt against the disgusting smells issuing from the man in front of him, he didn't know or care. He stood abruptly. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Itchering," he said stiffly, indicating to the others that it was time to go.

"I've go' other things that might interest yeh!" Itchering protested as they made their way back to the front door. "Got some right pretty baubles in me case, 'ere." He indicated a tattered leather briefcase on the floor next to his chair.

"I was only interested in the locket," Harry said, throwing caution to the winds in his eagerness to leave the apartment. Hermione trod on his foot, reminding him not to make too much of an issue of it.

"I've always wanted a gold locket like that," Ginny said, smiling coyly as she tried to cover Harry's mistake, "and when I heard you'd got one, I insisted that we come here. I'm sorry you don't have it anymore."

Itchering leered at her again, showing yellowed and cracked teeth caked with the grime of obvious dental neglect, and Harry only barely restrained himself from hexing him into oblivion while Hermione grabbed the back of Ron's robes, holding him back with difficulty.

"Right, we'll just go now," Ginny said brightly, opening the door and grabbing Harry's arm to pull him through the door just ahead of Hermione and an obviously struggling Ron.

When the door had closed behind them, Ginny and Hermione led Harry and Ron, both of whom were still furious, back down the stairs, not speaking until they had reached the street.

"Bugger!" Ron said angrily. "See why I said you shouldn't - "

Ginny rolled her eyes and interrupted. "Honestly, Ron, if you're going to say I shouldn't come along just because the likes of that dirty old man looked at me the wrong way, save your breath."

Ron closed his mouth, still very red in the face, and didn't speak as they walked quickly back to the Hog's Head. Now that Fernie Itchering had come into contact with Harry, they all knew it was not safe to remain at the pub even if the older man hadn't known exactly who he was talking to. Word was bound to get out that someone had been seeking Slytherin's locket.

Grabbing his things and saying a quick goodbye to Aberforth, Harry met the others in the garden. He wanted to go straight to Knockturn Alley, but before he did anything else, he tried to contact Lupin using his amulet.

Minutes passed, the four teens looking more and more worried when there was no answer.

"It's not the full moon yet," Hermione whispered worriedly. "There's no reason he shouldn't be answering."

"Maybe he just doesn't have his amulet on him," Ginny pointed out, and Harry looked at her with some relief. Just because Lupin wasn't answering didn't necessarily mean that anything bad had happened to him.

"He always wears it now," Ron contradicted her. "Ever since Harry left Headquarters, he never takes it off, does he, Hermione?"

"No," Hermione answered, looking all the more worried.

"Right," Harry said. "We'll stop at Headquarters first, then. We'll check on him and then we'll go to the shop. I'll probably need to go to Gringotts as well, though. Borgin's going to charge a fortune for that locket even if he only paid a song for it." He tried not to focus on his worry for Lupin, telling himself firmly that his guardian was most likely just taking a kip on the sofa or a shower or something like that.

"Does everyone have their things?" Hermione asked, her tone suddenly all business. They all nodded, patting their various bags and pockets unconsciously. "Right," she said briskly. "Let's go."

Harry felt Ginny grab firmly onto his upper arm, and in another moment, the four of them had Apparated into the back garden of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, where a safe Apparation Point had been set up.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Once they had quickly glanced at each other to confirm that everyone had made it safely and unsplinched, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all hurried toward the back door of Grimmauld Place, intent upon making sure Lupin was ok before continuing their mission. The locket seemed so close now that they were back in London that all of them thought it best to get to Knockturn Alley as quickly as possible; however, to all four of them and especially to Harry, making sure Lupin was safe took precedence even over finding Voldemort's horcrux.

As they entered the kitchen to Grimmauld Place, they were met with a sight that, at that particular moment, proved more fearsome to all of them than Lord Voldemort surrounded by Death Eaters.

Molly Weasley's face contorted in rage as soon as she saw them come through the back door. Trying her best to occupy herself while she waited to find out why Ginny was not in school, she had been making tea and toast in the large kitchen for a pale and sick-looking Remus Lupin, who glanced at them apologetically when they all stopped on the spot, looking nothing short of terrified.

"Mum," Ginny began, thinking she might be able to defuse her mother before she exploded. "I was just about to Floo - "

"You were just about to Floo," Mrs. Weasley cut across her angrily. "You were just about to Floo, hours after you left school without my permission, without a note or a single word of explanation! I've been so worried!"

For the first time in his memory, Mrs. Weasley abruptly turned to glare lividly at Harry, looking as though she would like nothing better than to shake him or to box his ears. "You promised me," she stated, her voice growing louder with every word. "You _promised_ me, Harry James Potter! You said you would see her safely to school, and you never _once_ told me that you were going to -"

"It was my decision, Mum," Ginny said, her voice trembling slightly even as she stood as straight as she could next to Harry, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

"It was not your decision to make, young lady!" Mrs. Weasley shouted before turning her glare back on Harry, who had never been told off like this by someone who he knew loved him. It was different than Aunt Petunia's rants, as Aunt Petunia had never shown any inclination to do anything to Harry other than shout at him, and he briefly wondered if this was what it would have felt like to be told off by his own mother.

He did not have much time to ponder over this, however, as Mrs. Weasley strode forward and grabbed his upper arms, shaking him slightly. Harry thought he could actually feel her anger coursing through her hands and into his body, and it took every ounce of willpower he had to continue to look her straight in the eye. "Mrs. Weasley, I - "

"Do not interrupt me, young man," Mrs. Weasley said even though she had not been speaking at the time. "Ginevra is my daughter, and you are like my son. I might not have been able to stop you from leaving school, but she is still underage and nothing you do will stop me from trying to keep her safe!"

Harry opened his mouth to speak again, but closed it as he saw Ron frantically shaking his head at him from next to Lupin, where he and Hermione had retreated as soon as was possible.

"You have betrayed my trust," Mrs. Weasley continued, releasing her hold on Harry's arms and lowering her voice, speaking coldly in a way that was much more hurtful to Harry than having been shouted at. She looked back and forth between Ginny and Harry as though deciding what punishment would best fit what they had done. After a moment, she said simply, "You are coming with me, Ginevra. You are going back to school and I will be revoking all permission to leave the castle for the remainder of the term. We will revisit this issue at Christmas."

"No, Mum," Ginny said quietly, having carefully restrained herself to let her mother finish what she was trying to say. "I will not be returning to school, with you or otherwise."

Mrs. Weasley's face, if it were possible, went even redder. "You will do as you are told, young lady, and _you_ ," she glared at Harry again as her voice rose in volume, "will as well! I will not sit here and wait for something dreadful to happen to one of you, do you hear me? I just won't do it! I want Ginny back at school, and you, Ron and Hermione will be returning to the Burrow with me!"

Ron and Ginny shouted in unison, their voices drowning each other out though their meaning was perfectly clear. Mrs. Weasley raised her voice even more to be heard over the increasing din. "Be quiet, you two!" she yelled to no avail.

She looked once again at Harry, who was startled to find that she now had tears running down her face, though that did not stop her from speaking angrily once again. "None of you had my permission to take Ginny out of school," she repeated loudly. "How _could_ you, Harry? I trusted you."

She was standing so close to Harry that he could not only hear what she was saying but also the mixture of rage and deep hurt in her shouts, and her last statement seemed to cut him straight to the bone. He stared at her, not even noticing the semi-reproachful glance from his ill guardian or the sympathetic one from Hermione, who still seemed to be trying to stay out of the fray. He didn't even realize that Ron and Ginny had stopped shouting, aghast at what their mother had said to Harry.

"We're all trusting him, Mum," Ginny said, breaking the momentary silence. "Only it's not enough for us to just sit back and wait for him to save everyone, is it?" Her tone, though very quiet, had more than a little bite to it, and everyone else felt the already-palpable tension in the room increase tenfold.

"How could you possibly say that, Ginevra Weasley," Molly seethed, turning towards her daughter and looking, for a moment, like she wanted to slap her. She didn't touch her, however, just looked her straight in the eyes as she continued, "your father nearly died for Harry, and Fred - " She broke off, the tears of anger and sadness in her eyes finally spilling over.

"Fred is one more reason why we have to end this," Ron said, startling everyone as he strode around the table and putting a calming hand on his mother's shoulder. Even Hermione looked surprised. "You know the Prophecy, Mum. You know what Harry has to do, and you know he can't do it alone, and even if he could, he shouldn't have to."

Ginny, Harry and Hermione all gaped at Ron, who they had expected to completely take their mother's side regarding Ginny's participation in their mission. Lupin raised his eyebrows, marveling at how much the tall redhead seemed to have grown in just a matter of a few weeks.

Mrs. Weasley gazed helplessly at all of them. "But what are you doing?" she asked finally, anger still in her voice though she seemed to have been deflated somewhat by Ron's words. "Why did you all leave school? What could be more important than staying safe until you're ready to...to..." She seemed unable to complete the statement, unable to speak aloud the dreadful sentence that seemed to have been passed down to Harry, and through him, to two of her own children.

"We're getting ready," Harry said a bit feebly, knowing he couldn't tell Mrs. Weasley about the Horcruxes but uncomfortable with keeping the information from her all the same. "There are things I have to do before I can fight him, or else I'd seek him out right now and end this."

"But you're not ready," Mrs. Weasley whispered the words she had said so often to all of them in the past few months.

"You're right, he's not," Hermione said finally, and four pairs of eyes turned to stare at her. "That's part of what we're doing, Mrs. Weasley. We want to make sure that when the time comes, Harry and the rest of us survive. We've got to do this. There simply isn't another way." She spoke calmly, but Harry noticed that her hand, which had been perched gently on Lupin's shoulder throughout the debate, was now gripping his robes so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Mrs. Weasley sank onto one of the kitchen chairs, burying her face in her hands, all the fight seeming to have gone out of her. Harry glanced at Lupin, who nodded imperceptibly towards Mrs. Weasley, indicating that Harry should go to her.

Awkwardly, Harry placed a hand on her shoulder, startled and chagrined to feel her trembling beneath his touch. The enormity of his task and of what he had asked the others to help him do crashed down upon him as he realized that he was, at least indirectly, causing Mrs. Weasley to have to live out her greatest fear, to have to live with the fact that her own children were going to follow him into more danger than most adult wizards would face in their entire lives.

Ginny came to stand behind Harry, placing her small hand next to his on her mother's shoulder, and they were joined a moment later by Ron and Hermione, each of them reaching out to touch Mrs. Weasley in some small way. Of all of them, Harry realized that she stood to lose the most, for all of her children were now either members of the Order or determined to follow Harry as he sought out the most evil wizard of all time. Silently, as they all stood frozen in the kitchen, he promised himself that he would do whatever he had to do to keep Ron, Hermione and Ginny safe, no matter what it took.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

After assurances from Lupin that the only thing the matter with him was a moderate case of the stomach flu, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, each of them cloaked against the chilly fall air, attempting to keep their identities as hidden as possible. All of them resisting the temptations offered by their favorite shops (Ron repeatedly reminding Hermione that going to Flourish and Blotts was not a good idea), they proceeded straight to Gringotts. Only when they were safely at one of the back booths of the long marble counter did Harry remove his hood and request to be taken to his vault.

The fast, downward-descending ride down the tracks into the underground vaults of Gringotts left them all a little bit breathless, and Harry fought a stab of embarrassment as his vault was opened, revealing the piles of gold his parents had left him as well as a considerable amount that had been transferred from the Black family vault at Remus's request more than a year before.

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered behind him, his eyes growing wide at the sight of Harry's wealth. He had seen inside Harry's vault once before, but that had been before Sirius's death.

Trying to ignore him, Harry asked Hermione, "How much do you reckon we'll need to buy the locket?"

Hermione looked unsure. "From everything we've heard, Harry, I would guess that it will be quite expensive. Two thousand galleons, maybe?"

"Two thousand galleons?" Ron whispered to Ginny as Harry asked the goblin who had accompanied them to withdraw the requested amount and place it into several small bags.

His pockets now heavy with more gold than he had ever carried, Harry climbed back into the cart, offering his hand to help Ginny over the side as Ron did the same for Hermione. Both girls giggled suddenly as the cart began its ascent back to street level.

"What's that about?" Ron asked, glancing at Hermione suspiciously.

"You two," Ginny answered, giggling again.

Harry and Ron looked at one another, their expressions confused. "What are they on about?" Ron whispered loudly.

"Dunno," Harry whispered as the girls began to laugh a bit more loudly.

"It's just that, everything we've done together, all that dangerous stuff, and you think Hermione and I need help getting into the cart!" Ginny finally answered.

Ron sighed in exasperation. "We were just trying to be gentlemen," he informed them, looking hurt.

"Shouldn't we do that?" Harry asked. From everything he had seen from the various dating couples at Hogwarts, girls liked it when their boyfriends did things like hold doors open and help them in and out of carriages.

"I think it's very nice, Harry," Ginny answered quickly, risking falling over the side of the cart as she stood and moved to give him a kiss, lurching slightly against him as they went around a particularly sharp curve.

"So do I," Hermione assured Ron, though she did not move from her seat as Ginny had.

"Ground level," the goblin announced as the cart came to an abrupt stop. Slightly dizzy, the four teenagers were happy to put their feet on solid ground again, and Harry replaced his cloak before they went out onto the street.

They walked quickly through Diagon Alley where they drew suspicious glances from the few shoppers who dared to be out in public. Though being hooded was common practice in the Hog's Head, it was currently regarded as highly dodgy behavior in most Wizarding areas, for obvious reasons.

It was almost a relief to make the turn into Knockturn Alley, where Harry knew that their cloaks would actually help them fit into the crowd rather than stick out. Leading the way to Borgin and Burks, Harry was about to go through the front door of the shop when Hermione suddenly stopped him.

"Don't go in there, Harry," she hissed urgently.

"Why not?" Harry asked, tensing and gripping his wand tightly, unsure of whether or not Hermione had seen something suspicious.

"You're too recognizable, even in that cloak," she told him.

"Oh, er, right," Harry said, trying to decide how best to handle the situation.

"Let me," Ron said with forced nonchalance. "The cloak covers my hair, and no one in there ought to recognize me."

Harry glanced at his friend, wondering why he was so eager to complete the transaction himself. The answer seemed obvious a few moments later, however, when they had ducked into a dark side alley so that Harry could give Ron the ugly, second-hand cloak he was wearing as well as the money they had withdrawn from Gringotts a few moments before.

Ron carefully weighed the bags of gold in his hand, staring at them for a few moments until Ginny cleared her throat impatiently.

"Oh," Ron said, trying to seem casual as he stowed the bags into his pockets, patting them to see that they remained secure. "Right. I'll just go in, then."

The wait seemed interminable, as they had not thought to bring any Extendable Ears with them and they could not risk being seen outside the shop while Ron was trying to get the locket. After what seemed like ages, Ron emerged and met them back in the side alley, his expression disgruntled.

Harry's heart sank. The locket must already have been sold. "So you didn't get it, then," he stated flatly.

"I did," Ron answered, pulling a long, slender box from his pocket. "But that Borgin's a right git, you know that?"

"I've heard," Harry said absently as he glanced around to make sure no one was observing them before carefully opening the box.

"That's it!" Hermione whispered excitedly as Ginny gripped Harry's arm through his cloak. "It's got Slytherin's insignia on it! That's got to be the right one; it's just like the drawing in Dum-"

"Hermione!" Harry whispered. "Be quiet!"

She broke off, looking at once ashamed of her excitement and stung by Harry's rebuke.

"It cost 1750 galleons," Ron whispered indignantly. "I tried to bargain with him but he just went and raised the price! Sorry, Harry," he added. "I could have got it for 1500 if I hadn't argued."

"It doesn't matter," Harry said dismissively, closing the box again and stowing it in the innermost pocket of his robes and then sealing the pocket with a flick of his wand so that there was no chance the locket would fall out on their journey back to Headquarters. Furrowing his brow, he asked, "Did Borgin think there was anything suspicious about you buying it?"

"Didn't seem to," Ron answered. "Once he saw that I had the gold, that is."

"Word must not have gotten back to him yet," Ginny whispered with some relief. "If he knew what he had, he would never have sold it."

"True," Harry said. "All the same, though, I think we ought to get back." He was eager to show the locket to Lupin and to figure out how to destroy it, and at the same time, knowing he was carrying a piece of Voldemort's soul in his pocket did not give him a good feeling at all.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

They arrived at Grimmauld Place a few moments later, all of them now feeling a heavy weight of dread as they wondered what it would take to destroy the horcrux. Destroying the diary had almost cost Harry and Ginny their lives, and destroying the Gaunt Ring had badly affected even Dumbledore. What would it take this time?

The kitchen was surprisingly empty when they came in. They had expected to have to find a way to get around Mrs. Weasley without arousing undue suspicion, and Harry was concerned to find that Lupin was not their either. He hoped nothing had happened while they had been gone.

Feeling as though he was being dragged down by the weight of the object in his pocket, Harry sat at the kitchen table.

"Do you want me to go find Professor Lupin, love?" Ginny asked, giving him a concerned glance. Harry nodded.

"I'll make sure Mum's not hovering around," Ron said, following his sister out of the kitchen.

Hermione sat across from Harry, muttering something in Latin that he didn't recognize. He supposed she was practicing the translations she had been working on, but he couldn't find it in himself to take much notice.

Splitting his inner pocket with his wand, Harry once again removed the long box containing the locket, wondering what Voldemort would think when he found out it had been lost and how it had gotten to the Black Family Manor in the first place.

Harry picked up the locket which, though it was quite heavy, offered no resistance to him as he lifted it out of the box and examined it. It seemed almost as though it was radiating raw magical power as it slowly turned on its chain, glinting in lamplight.

 _Now what_? he wondered.


	8. Severed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finally has a Horcrux in his hands, Hermione's got an incantation, and Remus is recovering...now what?

"Am I to understand that the Weasley boy bought a locket from Borgin just yesterday?" Lord Voldemort asked coldly, staring at a quivering Peter Pettigrew, who was kneeling so low on the cold stone floor of the throne room that he was nearly kissing the floor at his master's feet.  
  
"Y-y-yes, Ma-aster," Wormtail stammered, not daring to meet Voldemort's eyes.  
  
"When was this locket acquired by Borgin, Wormtail?" Voldemort persisted, lazily flicking his wand and causing Peter to suddenly gasp in pain as the tiniest sample of the Cruciatus Curse invaded his body.  
  
"I d-don't know, M-m-master," Wormtail answered breathlessly.  
  
"Of course not," Voldemort answered smoothly. "You were assigned to tail Potter, not Borgin."  
  
"Yes, Master," Wormtail said, his relief evident that Voldemort realized he could not possibly have known of the locket.  
  
"And yet you did not know the whereabouts of the locket before Potter and his friends came to Knockturn Alley to fetch it?" The Dark Lord's voice had begun to lower threateningly, and he flicked his wand again for just a bit longer, causing Peter to emit a short, high-pitched squeal.  
  
"I w-was unable t-t-to hear wha-what Potter was uh-up to, M-m-master," Wormtail stammered. "The w-w-wards..."  
  
"Wards," Voldemort scoffed. "You are a rat, are you not?"  
  
"Y-y-yes," Wormtail answered, his forehead now touching the ground in his desperation to prove his devotion and subservience.  
  
"You have utterly failed in your mission, Wormtail," Voldemort said softly. "I have told you, have I not, what happens to those who fail me?"  
  
"M-m-my Lord...puh-please..." Wormtail simpered.  
  
"Stand up," Voldemort ordered, and Wormtail complied, nearly tripping over the hem of his tattered black robes in his haste to obey.  
  
As the Dark Lord cast a variety of painful curses on Wormtail, the other two occupants of the room watched with an interest belied by their nonchalant expressions.  
  
Severus Snape had never had any great liking for the man being tortured in front of him - he had been one of Potter's friends, one of those fancying himself a "Marauder," and now was no more than a traitorous, lying weasel who, in Snape's opinion, deserved everything he got.  
  
Even given that, however, and even given the fact that he served the most evil wizard of the age, Snape found this particular punishment session to be rather excessive, even by the Dark Lord's standards. Generally if Voldemort was as angry with one of his followers as he seemed to be with Wormtail, that person was killed. Snape wondered what it was about this locket that had the Dark Lord so enraged, and was even more interested when he read the plain look of greed on Lucius Malfoy's face as he watched the proceedings from beside Snape.  
  
Peter's screams echoed off the stone walls of the chamber for what seemed like hours. When he was finished, the subject of Lord Voldemort's displeasure barely resembled a man, for his face and entire body were covered with an assortment of boils, burns and gashes.  
  
"You," Voldemort hissed. "Snape. Take this out of my presence." He gestured contemptuously at Wormtail, who resembled nothing now as much as a stained heap of black robes lying motionless on the floor.  
  
Lucius Malfoy's eyes glinted as Snape performed a simple levitation charm and took what was left of Peter Pettigrew from the room, ignoring the injured man's moans of intense pain. Just as the door was about to close, the reason for Malfoy's pleasure at Snape's assignment became evident.  
  
"I find that I must reconsider my plans, Malfoy," Voldemort said smoothly. "The Potter boy knows more than he should."  
  
~ x~x~x~x~x~x~x~  
  
Harry's hands shook as he sipped his tea. Directly below him, a howl - of pain or of rage, nobody knew - sounded as clearly as though the walls and floors had not been constructed of thick stone. Remus Lupin might have been in the room with them, so plainly were they able to hear his shrieks of anguish as he waited for the moon to wane in the safety of the locked basement of Grimmauld Place.  
  
"Labefactum viniculum..." Hermione muttered, trying to ignore what she was hearing from below as she concentrated on the translations of the runes they had found in Dumbledore's papers. She had been doing this for days, but always muttered the words in different orders, careful not to say the actual incantation as it was written with the Horcrux so near.  
  
"Are you sure it doesn't feel weird to you?" Harry asked Ginny, handing her the locket for the umpteenth time.  
  
She patiently took it and appeared to be considering the matter carefully, though she had long since concluded that either Harry was becoming paranoid or he could feel something that the rest of them couldn't.  
  
"It's not a very strong vibration," Harry coaxed her, "but if you concentrate on it hard enough, you should be able to feel it. And doesn't it feel heavy to you?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry," Ginny responded with sincere regret, "but it just doesn't feel strange to me. It feels like any gold locket would, not any heavier."  
  
Harry nodded and took it back from her, stowing it once again in his pocket. He knew the others were likely losing patience with his constant insistence that something was strange about the locket, something other than the fact that a piece of Voldemort's evil soul resided inside it, but when he held the locket in his hands, not only did it feel many times as heavy as an object of its size should, but it seemed to hum slightly with a faint, buzzing kind of vibration. He just couldn't understand why he was the only one who felt it.  
  
He sighed, his left hand straying into the pocket where the Horcrux was, turning it over and over as though this inane practice might give them a better idea of what to do with it. They were keeping their promise not to try anything it until Lupin had come out of seclusion, but in all honesty, they couldn't have anyway. Now that they had it, they really didn't know what to do with it. Their one comfort was that, as long as it was in Grimmauld Place, they knew it was as safe as it could possibly be, for it was very likely that no building in England, or perhaps even the world, was under better wards, charms and protection than the building they now inhabited.  
  
Hermione, Ginny and Harry all jumped when Ron entered the room from the back garden, having spent most of the day at the Burrow with his parents, ostensibly helping his mother with some garden work, but actually because he needed a break from the constant tension between himself and his sister.  
  
Though Ron had taken Ginny's side when her mother had found out she had left school, he had made it quite clear after the two women had made peace that he still did not approve of Ginny accompanying them on their journeys, and Ginny had responded to him with increasing frustration each time he broached the subject, until now, three days after they had obtained the locket, Hermione had finally intervened and suggested to Ron that his mother might appreciate it if he went for a visit.  
  
Hermione got up from the table, pushing back her hair in agitation, and gave him a soft hug. "How was it today?"  
  
"I swear Mum's got more garden gnomes than Hogwarts has house-elves!" Ron exclaimed without thinking. Hermione immediately stopped hugging him and glared at him reproachfully.  
  
"And I suppose you threw them over the garden wall again, did you?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips while Harry and Ginny looked on, relieved to have something to concentrate on besides the object in Harry's pocket.  
  
"Of course I did," Ron replied non-concernedly as he strode to the kitchen counter, removed an overripe banana from the bunch, and peeled it so quickly that one would have thought he was being starved to death.  
  
"How many times do I have to tell you that you have to lure - " Hermione began as Ron stuffed his mouth full of the soft fruit.  
  
"Ronald, that's disgusting," Ginny said lightly. "And Hermione, we've tried leaving food outside the walls for them. We've even tried leaving them flowers, which are almost like drugs to them. It doesn't work."  
  
"Well, there's got to be a better solution than spinning them around and chucking them over a wall!" Hermione said, her eyes flashing. "It's not humane. They are living creatures and - "  
  
"How are you coming on the rune translations, Hermione?" Ron asked, trying to deflect her. By now, they all knew that the discussion of any kind of harsh treatment to any kind of creature was not one in which they wanted to engage with Hermione, whether they felt justified in it or not.  
  
They all looked at her as she seemed to struggle with whether or not to go along with the subject change. For a moment, it seemed as though she was going to continue ranting about the unfair treatment of garden gnomes when another earsplitting shriek followed by a loud bang sounded below them.  
  
"I wish he didn't have to be locked up like that," Ginny said anxiously, worrying, as all of them were, that Lupin was hurting himself down there all alone.  
  
"There should be a place for werewolves to go during the full moon," Hermione said ponderingly. "You know, like a refuge or something, because I'm sure that Professor Lupin isn't the only person who has ever had trouble taking the Wolfsbane Potion, and I would wager that some werewolves can't afford it or find the ingredients. They don't hurt one another, and they could be kept safe while they still didn't have to be alone."  
  
"I think you might be onto something, Hermione," Ginny said with some surprise. This was the first time she had actually agreed with one of Hermione's ideas for improving the welfare of a downtrodden group. Most of them agreed with her in principle, of course, but thus far they had found all of her ideas for S.P.E.W. and the like rather irritating and slightly ridiculous.  
  
"Of course, a society for their protection would also be a good idea," Hermione replied, thinking hard.  
  
"How about those translations?" Ron asked quickly, hoping once again to cut her off before the situation became more serious.  
  
"I've got the runes translated into Latin and English," Hermione snapped, glancing at Harry, who had sat silently through the whole exchange, fingering the necklace in his pocket. "I think, paired with what Professor Dumbledore had written in Latin already, that it might be the incantation we need. It makes sense."  
  
"It didn't take an incantation to destroy the diary," Harry pointed out. "All I had to do was stab at it with that snake's tooth, remember?"  
  
"Dumbledore wondered about that, too," Hermione replied. "I saw it on one of the corners of a page he was working on, written very quickly."  
  
"What did he say?" Ron asked curiously, for they had all come to regard the pieces of parchments as extensions of the Headmaster they had loved so well. All four referred to them as if they themselves were imbued with Dumbledore's power, even though they knew it was not so.  
  
"He said that the piece of the soul that was in the diary was already fragmented," Hermione explained.  
  
"It was in that memory of him," Harry added, having read this part of the parchment over and over, trying to find clues as to how to destroy an intact Horcrux.  
  
Ginny turned incredibly pale. "What if it was in me?" she whispered in horror, hardly able to stand the idea that anything so vile could have inhabited her body.  
  
"His memory was in you, not his soul," Hermione said comfortingly as Harry squeezed her hand. "Professor Dumbledore was very clear on that. It takes powerful magic to transfer a Horcrux or to destroy one, but he was content to do that in the hopes of getting a body back, even if it was the body of his sixteen-year-old self. The Horcrux was beginning to transfer into his memory as he drew life force from you."  
  
Harry didn't respond, preferring not to remember the nearly-dead Ginny on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets. He was simply thankful that nothing had happened to her in the end. He held her hand a little tighter as Ron continued the conversation, all of them trying to ignore the noise from below.  
  
"But what about what the ring did to Dumbledore?" he voiced the question that none of them, thus far, had dared to utter out loud. "It burned up his hand, and then he was so weak that he..." he trailed off.  
  
Hermione sighed. "Obviously, we're going to have to make sure Harry's safe, that we all are, when we try this." None of them failed to notice that she did not mention how, exactly, they were going to accomplish that.  
  
"When?" Ginny asked, her voice trembling a little.  
  
"Now that we know the incantation," Harry said, looking at Hermione, who nodded in confirmation, "it should be soon. The sooner the better, because we still have three more to find and destroy after this one."  
  
The four teenagers fell silent again, listening to their own beating hearts and to the echoes of torture and despair issuing from the basement as they wrestled with their private fears and convictions. Now that the time had nearly come, they felt every inch as teenagers, no longer certain of their task or of what the future would hold.  
  
~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~  
  
"He's a man now," Molly Weasley said sadly to her husband as she watched Ron walk confidently through the front garden towards the Apparation point. She felt tears prick her eyes as he turned on the spot and disappeared, headed back to Grimmauld Place and to whatever horrible mission or task the teenagers had assigned to themselves.  
  
"Well, Mollywobbles, you can't have expected him to turn into a woman, now could you?" Arthur responded, sipping his peppermint tea complacently. He had had a grand time that afternoon de-gnoming the garden with Ron, and he thought his son was an altogether capital fellow. He had said so several times over the course of the day until Ron was almost embarrassed by it. "Boys become men, girls become women, and our Ron was never a girl. Only Ginny was a girl."  
  
"Yes, I know, dear," Molly sighed again as she cast a warming charm on her tea. Arthur no longer liked his piping hot, so she never heated the water to a full boil anymore and almost always had to charm hers to be hot enough to drink. "Speaking of Ginny," she continued, for she was making an effort to include Arthur in the parenting decisions and the day-to-day business of the family even though it seemed as though he had recovered as far as he was going to do from the curse that had hit him that summer, "I simply don't know what we're going to do about her."  
  
"Do about her?" Arthur asked in frank bewilderment. Though Molly had kept him quite up-to-date with Ginny's activities up to and including leaving school to join Harry, Ron and Hermione at Grimmauld Place, he had yet to react in a way that satisfied her, and without his support she somehow felt lost, even though she seriously doubted he could even understand the gravity of the situation. "What on earth would we need to do about her, Mollywobbles?"  
  
"Arthur, we've discussed this. You know she needs to be in school!" Molly protested, a desperate quality to her voice. She needed someone, anyone, to stand with her on this. Though she had made a tacit peace with Ginny because she could not stand to be at odds with her while the situation was so dangerous, she still wanted desperately for her daughter to return to Hogwarts and the relative safety of the castle with its rules, its regulations and, most importantly, its wards.  
  
"School can be boring," Arthur said conversationally, and Molly felt a fond stab of remembrance, for he had often said the same thing while they were in school. Though Arthur was a very good wizard, he would always rather have been tinkering with Muggle and magical contraptions than learning the history and theory behind the spells he had mastered so easily.  
  
"Yes, dear, I know that school can be boring," she conceded, knowing that she wouldn't be able to argue him out of that point. "But that doesn't change the fact that Ginny wants to be a Healer, and she'll be safer there, too."  
  
"Ginny might be a good Healer," Arthur replied.  
  
"I know she might," Molly said, her patience beginning to wear thin. "But she won't if she can't go to school, will she? Oh, won't you stand by me on this and tell Ginny she has to go back? Please, Arthur."  
  
"Mollywobbles," Arthur said, setting his teacup too hard on the table so that his tea splashed out everywhere, "Don't you know what Harry Potter is doing?"  
  
Molly was taken aback, for she had rarely seen her husband get this serious since he had had his accident. Indeed, the expression on her face was so grave that it reminded her of times in the past when he had come home from an especially hard day at the office. "Harry...he should be in school, too," she said faintly, though she knew that he could not be even if she did not care to admit it.  
  
"Molly, this is important," Arthur said, banging his fist on the table. "Don't you understand that it is not about us anymore? It's about everybody, and Harry has to kill that monster, and if he doesn't have Ginny, he can't. So there!" His face had become red in anger for the first time since he had been cursed, and Molly felt her mouth drop open at his intensity.  
  
"Why can't he do it without her?" Molly asked, trying to sound reasonable, but knowing that she sounded every inch the desperately afraid parent that she was.  
  
"Because the only thing that beats hate is love," Arthur said. "You know that, and Dumbledore always said it. She loves him, Mollywobbles, just like I love you, and Harry needs that if he's going to get rid of that hate, doesn't he? What's the good in her being a Healer if there is no one left to heal?"  
  
Molly could find no response to that and, as it was time for her to fix their dinner, she once again let the subject drop.  
  
~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~  
  
Harry placed the locket gingerly on the floor of the destroyed basement two days after the waning of the moon. Though the teenagers had felt ready to make a try of it as soon as Lupin was out of seclusion, they had found him to be too badly injured and far too exhausted to be able to participate, and out of respect for his wishes, they had waited until he declared himself ready. Harry was immensely relieved to find that as Lupin recovered from the full moon, he also seemed to be recovering from the virus that had been making him sick before the transformation. They were all glad of that because now, as they were finally going to begin an attempt to destroy Slytherin's locket and the Horcrux inside of it, they felt they would need all the help they could get. The mental picture of Dumbledore and his weakening strength and burning arm as he destroyed the Gaunt Ring was never far from their minds.  
  
They stood in a circle around the large locket, each of them staring at it as though they expected something to happen right then and there. At a nod from Hermione, Harry said in as strong a voice as he could muster, "Solvo is animus! Labefactum viniculum quod ligo is ut is Terra! Solvo is animus! Tergum ut obscurum ex unde is venit." Though he had never actually verbalized the spell in its correct order, he had gone over and over it in his head and was quite relieved when it came out clearly.  
  
Nothing happened, and the four teens and Remus Lupin looked at one another questioningly.  
  
Harry repeated the spell, his confidence bolstered by the fact that the locket didn't seem to be dangerous even as his concern grew that they were going about this in the wrong way.  
  
Still nothing happened.  
  
"Let's say it together," Hermione suggested. "You know that a spell has more power if it is cast simultaneously with others. Maybe that's what has to happen."  
  
"Dumbledore was alone when he did it," Ginny pointed out.  
  
"Dumbledore was a right sight more powerful than we are," Ron retorted, still incensed that yet another attempt by him to keep Ginny from participating had been thwarted, this time by Lupin, who had insisted that Harry needed support from all of them.  
  
"Will you two concentrate, please?" Hermione asked wearily. "Let's all point our wands at it and say the incantation with Harry. Maybe that will be enough to make something happen."  
  
"Solvo is animus!" they chanted. "Labefactum viniculum quod ligo is ut is Terra."  
  
Nothing happened even though Harry could almost feel the concentration of his friends in the air.  
  
"Solvo is animus! Tergum ut obscurum ex unde is venit!"  
  
Nothing. The locket simply lay on the floor as it had been placed, neither hot nor cold to the touch, nor changed in any noticeable way.  
  
"Harry, you're sure this is the - " Hermione began uncertainly.  
  
"I'm sure," Harry cut across her.  
  
"Then why isn't it working?" Ron asked.  
  
"Obviously," Ginny responded, "we're doing something wrong."  
  
"Dumbledore was wearing the ring when he destroyed it," Harry said. No one replied, for they had all hoped that the necklace could be destroyed without any kind of physical contact from anyone.  
  
After a long, tense pause, Lupin said quietly, "I'll hold it."  
  
"No!" Harry cried. Lupin had already been through enough and he, Harry, was not about to let another person he cared for sacrifice himself for his sake.  
  
Lupin ignored him, kneeling quickly to pick up the locket and hold it tightly in his fist. "Say the incantation," he ordered.  
  
"No, I won't," Harry responded obstinately.  
  
"Harry, listen to me," Lupin said intensely. "I'm going to be fine. Remember: destroying the Gaunt Ring did not kill Professor Dumbledore! It weakened him until he was not able to react in time to save himself, but I won't have to do that, Harry! You're all here with me and we're safe."  
  
"But Dumbledore's hand..." Ginny said what they were all thinking.  
  
"Could have been either mended by Madam Pomfrey or lived with," Lupin said gently. It was hard for all of them, especially now, to remember the events that had led to Dumbledore's death at the beginning of the summer. "Harry, say the incantation."  
  
Harry looked straight into his guardian's eyes and saw that he would not yield, that unless he, Harry, was ready to duel with him for possession of the locket, this was the only way they were going to make any progress. Finally, he nodded, silently promising himself that if it looked as though Lupin was being seriously hurt, he would stop, Horcrux or no Horcrux.  
  
Raising his wand and pointing it carefully at the locket dangling from Lupin's fist, which was clenched so tightly around it that the knuckles were white, Harry said the incantation. He could not decide whether he was relieved or frustrated when, once again, nothing happened.  
  
A collective sigh rose from the group after Lupin himself tried saying the incantation and still nothing happened. It seemed that they were missing some important factor in the equation, but no one could put their finger on what it is.  
  
"Harry's going to have to hold it," Hermione said after a long while had passed in silence.  
  
"We tried that already, Hermione. Nothing happened when Professor Lupin held it," Ginny argued. "There's got to be something else wrong. Maybe the incantation..."  
  
"The incantation is fine," Harry said quietly, for he had been thinking hard while they had stood in silence. "It matches Dumbledore's notes, and it matches what little I can remember about what he said during the battle."  
  
"But what's the difference in Lupin holding it and Harry holding it?" Ron asked, for some reason feeling quite alarmed at the idea of Harry holding the Horcrux while it was destroyed, even though nothing had happened when Lupin had done it.  
  
"Harry can feel something different," Ginny muttered, hating this idea more and more every time she thought about it, even though if she had told herself the truth, she would have admitted that she had been dreading this possibility ever since they had found the locket.  
  
"It's because of the Killing Curse," Harry said, running his hands through his hair. Though he had suspected all along that he would have to be in contact with the Horcrux, he could not help feeling afraid as he remembered watching Dumbledore's hand burn black right before his eyes. "I've got some sort of connection with him; that's why he can perform Legilimency on me from a distance and why I had those dreams fifth year."  
  
"But Dumbledore didn't - " Hermione began tentatively.  
  
"I don't know how Dumbledore did it, okay?" Harry snapped, rounding on her, but he softened his tone when he saw the hurt expression on her face. "Look, I don't know how this works; I don't know why Dumbledore could do it and why the locket is different for me than it is for the rest of you. The diary wasn't like that, and I don't understand any of this. I'm pretty sure anyone could have destroyed the diary because I didn't even have to say a spell to do it."  
  
"According to Dumbledore's notes," Lupin broke in, "the diary was the first Horcrux he made, and he made it with a random murder, something that wouldn't have excited as much emotion or power as the others did. He made the ring Horcrux soon after when he killed his uncle, and it stands to reason that that one would have been stronger." He stopped short of discussing the locket, because he, too, had been dreading the idea that Harry himself might have been the only one able to destroy it. Just the day before they had found the locket, Lupin had run into something very disturbing in the notes, something the teens had overlooked. Perhaps...he thought, but then he cleared his mind forcibly, not willing to even entertain the possibility that what Dumbledore had written could be even remotely true.  
  
"Give me the locket," Harry said a little too loudly, revealing his nervousness to everyone in the room.  
  
Lupin looked searchingly at him, reaching desperately into his own mind for another way to do this. Finding nothing and knowing in his heart that Harry was right and that it had to be done, Lupin handed it over, willing his hands not to shake.  
  
To everyone's astonishment, Harry didn't keep the locket in his hands, but unclasped the chain and put the locket's thick gold chain around his neck. Though he knew no one but himself could feel it, the chain and the locket both hummed unpleasantly against his skin. "Let's do this," he said firmly to the others.  
  
"Everyone touch him, just like we did in the spring when he was performing Legilimency," Lupin instructed quietly, moving behind Harry and placing both hands on his shoulders.  
  
Having placed the locket around his neck, Harry was able to offer both of his hands to Ginny, who carefully hid her shock at how cold and sweaty they were when she took them into hers. Out of everyone in the room, she was, perhaps, the only one who the extent of Harry's fear.  
  
After Ron and Hermione had each placed one of their hands reassuringly on Harry's arms, Harry took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest, willing himself not to falter, to be as brave as Dumbledore had been.  
  
"Solvo is animus!"  
  
He and everyone else in the room knew that something was different as soon as he had begun the incantation, though at that early point they could not tell what it was.  
  
"Labefactum viniculum quod ligo is ut is Terra."  
  
Harry's voice did not shake, but the rest of them began to notice a queer burning smell coming from him.  
  
"Harry, no!" Ron shouted, the first of them to see that the locket was glowing a dim purple and was charring a hole right through the front of Harry's robes.  
  
"Solvo is animus!"  
  
"Stop it, Harry!" Hermione cried as she felt Harry's skin becoming hot.  
  
"Don't let go of him," Lupin cautioned, his face deathly pale as he, too, felt the heat and prayed that no permanent damage would be caused to Harry, who he had come to love as much as if he had been his own.  
  
Ginny, who was the only one touching Harry's bare skin, was the first to realize how hot he was truly getting. She gripped his hands even more tightly as hers threatened to loosen from the burning pain of the heat emanating from his skin. She would not let go even if her hands were burned as badly as Dumbledore's had been, and if she was feeling this much pain, her heart ached at the thought of what must be happening to Harry.  
  
"Tergum ut obscurum ex unde is venit!"  
  
The burning smell intensified as the locket, now glowing so brightly that it could have been seen from across the room in the dark, burned completely through the front of his robes and began searing his skin with a sickening sizzle reminiscent of sausages in a frying pan.  
  
"Harry!" Ginny cried, unable to contain herself as she gazed into his face, which gave no sign of the pain he must have been in as he began the incantation again. "Harry, stop!"  
  
Tears were streaming down Hermione's, Ron's and Ginny's cheeks as their own hands began to blister, and they knew that if Harry's body became much hotter, they would have no choice but to let go.  
  
"Solvo is animus!"  
  
A pulse of magical energy pushed outward from Harry, accompanied by the most intense wave of heat that any of his companions had ever felt. As one, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Remus fell back, breaking contact with Harry as his body became too hot for even the lightest touch.  
  
"Labefactum viniculum quod ligo is ut is Terra! Solvo is animus!"  
  
Harry's voice began to falter as his body was lifted from the ground, the locket around his neck now pulsing with purple light that filled the entire room. The locket had burned through the skin in the center of his chest and he knew that if this did not end soon, it would burn right through his breastbone and straight into his heart.  
  
It was agony; yet, somehow, Harry knew that he had to finish the second recitation of the incantation. Though his chest and body burned and his scar felt as though it would burst into flames itself, he knew he had no choice, that there was no turning back. With this thought, his mind cleared and he heard the unmistakable notes of phoenix song, and he was filled with courage.  
  
"Tergum...ut ob...obscurum...ex...unde...is..."  
  
Ginny's eyes filled with tears as Harry's body drifted slowly back towards the ground, his face twisted with pain and concentration, the locket still heavy on his chest, the smell of burning flesh growing more grotesque with every moment.  
  
"...venit."  
  
The occupants of the room were blinded as the locket emitted a final surge of energy and dissolved into liquid gold that pooled in the cavity of the burn on Harry's chest as he collapsed to the ground. When nothing was left of the locket and the room had returned to normal, they knew that it was over, but that mattered little to them as they hurried to Harry's prone and lifeless form.  
  
"Harry!" Ginny and Remus called together, crouching next to him as Ron and Hermione pulled him into a sitting position.  
  
There was no response.  
  
~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~  
  
The Dark Lord was uneasy. Ever since Albus Dumbledore had destroyed the Horcrux contained in his uncle Morfin's ring, he had wondered if anyone else had discovered their existence or locations. The fate of Slytherin's locket and one other artifact, in particular, concerned him greatly.  
  
"Regulus Black," Voldemort hissed to himself, remembering with grim satisfaction the day that he had ripped his traitorous former servant limb from limb and watched as he had bled to death, crying for his mother. He had not known at that time that the young Death Eater had become aware of the particulars in his quest for immortality, and he would never have guessed that one of his precious Horcruxes had been stolen. If he had known at the time, of course, the young Black would have thought being dismembered was particularly merciful compared to what Voldemort would have done to him.  
  
It had only been recently that Voldemort had discovered that Regulus had stolen the locket from its original hiding place, and as the traitor had already been rotting in the ground for almost twenty years, there was no way to find out directly where it had been taken. It was not until Wormtail's report of Potter and his friends purchasing a locket from Borgin and Burks that Voldemort himself knew the location of it, too late to do anything but wait and hope that the fools would not find a way of destroying it.  
  
As he thought of this, Voldemort was suddenly overtaken by a pain the likes of which he had not felt since he had been ripped from his body after trying to kill the Potter boy nearly sixteen years before.  
  
Almost finished.  
  
The thought, Harry Potter's thought, flashed into his mind unbidden as Voldemort dropped to the ground, not hearing the horrified exclamations from the two young servants who had been waiting upon him.  
  
Desperately, Voldemort attempted to enter Harry Potter's mind, to turn the tables, to distract the boy from his task, but it was no use. The connection was too strong for him to overcome its direction, and though he would never have admitted it to even his most trusted servants, he knew that he did not have the power to change it.  
  
Burning. My heart...  
  
Though the increasing pain in his chest, Voldemort smiled the cold smile that cast fear into his followers every time they saw it. Yes, Potter, your heart, he thought maliciously, carefully keeping his face from revealing his pain to the others in the room. The ancient enchantments placed upon the locket guaranteed that few would ever be able to destroy it, and that those who tried would pay with extreme pain and possibly their lives.  
  
"Leave me," he hissed to his two young servants, and they obeyed without question.  
  
Voldemort's mind went completely blank with one last, tremendous surge of magical energy and pain, and as he closed his eyes, he knew that it was over.  
  
Lucius Malfoy, his curiosity piqued by the sight of the two young manservants rushing from the room, cautiously entered, and he could not stop a moment of pure, undisguised pleasure as he saw Lord Voldemort lying prone on the floor, his body lifeless. Before anyone else saw it, however, he carefully arranged his face into an expression befitting the most devoted and trusted servant of the Dark Lord.  
  
He was just in time, for as he was approaching the crumpled figure on the floor, Bellatrix Lestrange entered the chamber, having not even known anything was amiss.  
  
"My Lord!" she shrieked, and she rushed towards him.  
  
There was no response.


	9. The First Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the destruction of Slytherin's locket, Harry has a recovery to make...but he won't get much time to rest before some new information comes to light.

"Stop simpering, Bella," Voldemort said, his voice dangerously calm. "The Dark Lord owes you no explanation of his actions, though as you are one of my more devoted followers, I will allow you only this much: the state in which you found me was no accident. Lord Voldemort makes no mistakes."

"Do not think that I once doubted your wisdom," Bellatrix Lestrange answered, her voice lower and more carefully modulated than usual. "I, like many in the presence of greatness, only wish to learn more of your - "

"That will do," Voldemort cut her off, though he sounded rather amused by her blatant attempts to curry favor.

Bellatrix remained quiet, her head bowed.

"Lucius," Voldemort snapped as he dusted off his robes and returned to his chair. "Bring me Wormtail."

Lucius hid his displeasure at being assigned a task so menial that even the lowest of their servants could have performed it. After all, if Lord Voldemort wished it, who was he to disobey?

"Come," he said curtly when he reached Pettigrew's tiny, cold stone room. "You are called."

Wormtail's eyes widened in fear and in shock, for it had been less than a week since he had been tortured so mercilessly, a week in which he had been left severely alone and had had to resort to foraging to get food after the other Death Eaters had either gone for the day or had retired to their rooms in the stronghold.

"D-did he say what he wanted?" he squeaked. "L-lord Vold-de-demort?" He could not keep the stammer out of his voice. Not for the first or the last time, he wondered piteously how to get himself out of the predicament he was in. To run would mean certain death, and to betray the Dark Lord was unthinkable.

"Does it matter what he requires, fool?" Lucius Malfoy spat contemptuously.

"Of c-course n-not," Pettigrew chattered as he gingerly donned his black Death Eater robes over his tender and injured skin. Everyone knew that the subjects of Lord Voldemort's displeasure were allowed no potion or charm to offer respite from the pain, and Pettigrew had been no different.

"You're disgusting," Malfoy commented as they proceeded slowly up the stone passageway to Voldemort's chambers.

Pettigrew didn't reply, for deep in his miserable heart he knew it was the truth.

"Wormtail," Voldemort greeted him smoothly as they pushed open the heavy door and announced their presence. Bellatrix stood next to him, a strangely triumphant expression on her face as she watched them come in. Peter Pettigrew was far too overwrought with fear to notice it, but Lucius Malfoy wondered uneasily how much he had missed while he had waited for the blundering fool next to him to make himself ready.

Pettigrew stepped forward with an admirable attempt to appear confident, and immediately fell to his knees on the cold stone floor, willing himself not to flinch at the pain that radiated through his lower extremities as he did so.

"I have a new assignment for you, Wormtail," Voldemort said, "and I would very much hope, for your sake, that you perform this task, shall we say, more diligently than you did the last one?"

"I live to serve you, M-master," Pettigrew said.

"You serve me because you have nowhere else to go, Wormtail," Voldemort replied coldly. "Do not attempt to conceal your thoughts from Lord Voldemort. He knows the true loyalty of all of his followers."

Was Malfoy just imagining it, or did Lord Voldemort's eyes flick ever-so-subtly towards him when he said that?

"Wh-what would you have me do, m-my Lord?" Pettigrew asked tremulously.

"You are now assigned to Hogwarts," Voldemort told him. "Your assignment is to report to me on Narcissa Malfoy's movements and conversations, no matter how insignificant they may seem to one as uninformed as yourself. I am especially interested in any information passed from any source to Harry Potter or his little friends. Snape will assist you in this assignment, but make no mistake, Wormtail. The responsibility is yours alone, and I will be most...displeased if you should fail me again."

Pettigrew gulped and nodded his head.

"Go," Voldemort told him abruptly, ending the interview and turning his back on Pettigrew, Malfoy and Lestrange.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Sighing softly, Ginny used a clean cotton cloth to dab Burn Relief Potion onto Harry's naked chest. It had been over twenty-four hours since he had destroyed Slytherin's locket, and he had shown no sign of waking or awareness.

Lupin and Ginny kept watch with unceasing vigilance, usually joined by Ron and Hermione. It was impossible for any of them to stay in the room for long without their gaze becoming focused on the ugly black wound on Harry's chest, filled with re-hardened gold from the melted locket. It showed no sign of healing no matter what they did, and Ginny and Lupin had resolved to keep him as comfortable as possible until he woke up and decided what he wanted to do next.

Lupin watched Ginny closely as she tended to Harry's wound, and he marveled at the tenderness with which she took care of him, and the meticulousness of the schedule she had constructed for the various potions they had gotten from Madam Pomfrey the day before.

"You will make a marvelous Healer, Ginny," Lupin said quietly when she finally sat down again, taking Harry's hand just as her mother had the summer before Harry's sixth year.

"Yes, she will," a soft voice said from the doorway, and both Lupin and Ginny snapped their attention to the doorway, relaxing only when they saw the familiar form of Molly Weasley, shrugging off her fall cloak before hurrying to Harry's side.

"What's happened?" she whispered, horrified, as she looked at Harry's wound.

"Harry's been hurt," Ginny replied simply. "Madam Pomfrey saw him yesterday and said that he was only unconscious because he had expended all of his energy and his body needed to conserve everything for the purpose of healing."

Molly nodded. "How did he get hurt?" she asked anxiously, putting her arm around Ginny, who now seemed to Molly to be much older than she had been just two weeks previously.

"Harry was doing what he had to do," Lupin answered her sadly.

"Was he in a duel?" Molly persisted.

"No, Mum," Ginny said tiredly, silently pleading with Lupin to help her deflect her mother's questions.

"Molly," Lupin said, putting his hand on her arm. "You'll have to trust us for now."

The sharp intake of breath warned both Ginny and Lupin that, had they not been standing around Harry's bedside, they would have been treated to a telling-off right then and there. After a moment, however, Molly sighed in resignation.

"It's not anything about you, Mum," Ginny tried to reason with her. "Dumbledore..."

"Dumbledore was not always known for making the right decisions concerning Harry," Molly whispered, a bitter edge to her voice.

"Then trust me, Mum," Ginny said quietly. "Please."

Molly gazed searchingly at her, and for the first time ever, she found that she was looking into the eyes of a woman rather than a girl. Her own eyes filled with tears as she drew her youngest child into her arms. "I trust you, Ginevra," she said so softly that Ginny would not have heard had her mother's lips not been right next to her ears.

So it was that when Harry woke, he was greeted with the sight of the two Weasley women hugging one another and crying, and he sat up straight with alarm, for he could not remember what had happened as the Horcrux had been destroyed. He could see that Lupin and Ginny were in the room with him, of course, but what if Ron or Hermione...

"What's going on?" he asked urgently, his voice hoarse and cracking.

"Calm down, Harry," Lupin said immediately. "Everything's okay."

Molly and Ginny immediately broke apart, wiping their eyes and attempting to smile bravely at him, though each of them, in looking at Harry, was afraid: Ginny because of what she knew and Molly because of what she did not.

"How are you?" Ginny asked, immediately putting a cool hand on his forehead to feel for fever. Nodding in satisfaction, she sat on the bed next to him.

"I'm okay," Harry said as the memories of the previous night flooded back in. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"They're downstairs eating," Lupin said. "They promised to bring something up for us, but Ron has been rather hungry all day today, so I don't know whether we'll see any food or not."

"I'll go see to it," Mrs. Weasley said after giving Harry a hug. No one ever went hungry when she was in the house.

After she had closed the door behind her, Harry looked back and forth from Ginny to Lupin, smiling grimly. "We did it, didn't we?"

"You did it, Harry," Ginny corrected him gently. "Slytherin's locket is gone."

"Well, not completely, it seems," Harry said, gingerly touching the gold-filled burn on his chest, the exact size and shape of the locket.

"Madam Pomfrey may be able to -" Lupin began.

"No," Harry said. "I don't know why, but I am fairly sure she can't, and I don't even know if she should."

"Should what?" Hermione asked, coming into the room with a tray of sandwiches. She smiled at Harry and hugged him after she had set the tray down on the chest. "I'm glad you're back, Harry," she told him.

"Thanks," he muttered, embarrassed as always with the attention he drew whenever he was stuck in bed.

"Should what?" Hermione repeated, knowing this routine well and determined to avoid it if she could.

"Should remove the gold and the burn from Harry's chest," Lupin said, leaning back in the armchair with a sigh; neither he nor Ginny had gotten a wink of sleep since the previous day.

Hermione said nothing, but a strange light came into her eyes and she suddenly looked at Harry more intently than she had ever done before. It was obvious that whatever she was thinking troubled her greatly as her eyes fixed themselves on Harry's wound and then on his scar, back and forth, for several long moments.

"What is it, Hermione?" Ginny asked, but Hermione would say nothing. She shook herself slightly, like one coming out of a daydream, and smiled as brightly as she could.

"Ron and I have loads to tell you, Harry," she said almost too eagerly, as though she was desperate for a change in subject. "We've been in the Black family library for hours, and..."

As Hermione chattered on about old books and the possibilities that lay within their covers, Harry settled back on his pillows, exhausted and in pain but strangely triumphant, knowing that the cost had not been too great for such an important step in their journey.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

"This has to be it, Ron!" Hermione said excitedly some hours later. Ginny, Lupin and Harry were all sleeping soundly a floor above them, Ginny and Harry curled up together on Harry's bed (despite Mrs. Weasley's protests that it wasn't proper), and Lupin in his own room down the hall. Ron was showing signs of fatigue as well, but Hermione was too excited to even think of sleeping.

"What does, Hermione?" Ron asked, stifling a yawn with difficulty.

"Look!" she exclaimed, shoving a dusty and yellowed book under his nose.

"Hermione," Ron protested, "It's after eleven at night and the words on that page are so faded I can't read them. Won't this wait until - " Ron broke off suddenly and yawned, stretching his arms above his head. " - tomorrow?"

"No, Ronald!" Hermione replied impatiently, leaning across him and pointing to a particularly faded passage on the page in front of him. He was too tired to notice, but she was just barely restraining herself from jumping up and dancing around the room - after months of searching, she believed she might have found the object once belonging to Helga Hufflepuff that Voldemort could have used as a Horcrux.

Ron squinted at the letters. Was it just his tired eyes, or were the millions of small, black figures having a swimming competition on the page in front of him?

"Once having been stored and displayed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he read slowly, "the golden pup of Hufflepuff..." He looked up. "The golden pup?" he asked in confusion.

Hermione rolled her eyes, sighing. "Honestly, Ronald," she said as though everyone should be able to read aged text while they were one step out of slumberland. "It's 'cup,' not 'pup.'"

"Oh, right," Ron muttered, embarrassed. "The golden cup of Hufflepuff, believed to be the very cup used in the binding of the four founders of Hogwarts itself and in the chartering of the school, was stolen from its place of honor at the school in 1944..." He looked up at Hermione, dawning comprehension on his face. "Bloody brilliant!" he said. "1944 would have been Riddle's...erm..."

"Seventh year at Hogwarts," Hermione supplied.

"But what does it mean, 'the binding of the four founders?'" Ron asked.

"Aren't you ever going to read _Hogwarts, a History_?" she asked with a small smile, knowing the answer full well.

"Why should I when you've got it memorized?" Ron shrugged as he gave his standard response. "So what does it mean?"

"There were several magical contracts forged when the four founders began Hogwarts," Hermione said, "though most of them are unknown because they were done in complete secrecy. One of the strongest forms of binding people to one another in the time of the founders was the sharing of a charmed chalice, and what records there are indicate that just such a contract might have been forged." She indicated another passage in the book. "And if Voldemort had found out about that, and about the cup..."

"And stole it before he left school," Ron continued.

"Then it could be just what we're looking for," Hermione concluded with satisfaction, closing the book with a dull "thud" after she had marked her place.

"Now, Ron," she said, "we really ought to get some sleep, you know. Harry's going to want to know about this and then we're going to have to find this cup."

"Right," Ron agreed, yawning again, his eyelids already drooping.

"So go to bed," she said fondly before she tilted his head with her hand and kissed him. "We'll tell Harry in the morning when he wakes up."

"Right," Ron said again, heading for the door.

"Oh, and Ron?" Hermione said just as he was about to plod out into the hallway and to his room.

"Yeah?" he asked, turning to face her.

"Thank you," she said quietly, beaming at him. "I love you."

He grinned. "Love you too, Hermione."

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

The next day, Ginny insisted that Harry stay in bed with a fervor that made him wonder if she had morphed into a strange combination of her mother and Madam Pomfrey. Though he told her repeatedly that he felt fine, she would not waver, and with a small smile on his face, Lupin had advised that he stop arguing.

"Trust me, Harry," he had said, his eyes twinkling for the first time in weeks. "This is not a battle that you will win. Take advantage of the time to rest, because I am certain that it will be all too short-lived." The twinkle had faded as he made this statement; Ron and Hermione had been in early that morning with their news about the cup, and Lupin knew that the four teenagers would be off again as soon as they had even the foggiest idea of where they might find it.

Realizing the truth behind what his guardian had said, Harry rather grumpily consented to stay in his bed for the remainder of the day, though he swore that no one, not even the exceptionally pretty red-headed witch sitting at his bedside, would keep him down after that. After breakfast, Ginny went downstairs to help her mother with some household chores (for Molly could not be convinced that a thorough scrub of the Grimmauld Place kitchen was not necessary), Ron and Hermione left to go to Diagon Alley for some supplies and books for Ginny, and Lupin went to the library to look over everything Ron and Hermione had discovered the night before.

Feeling slightly abandoned, Harry groused to himself, picking at the threads on his comforter and wishing for the first time since he had entered the Wizarding world that he had a television set to keep him occupied.

When Aberforth Dumbledore peeked his head into the room almost a half an hour later, he was vastly amused to find Harry, a cloudy expression on his face, practicing his Reducto charm on various bits of dust and debris around the edges of the room.

"Hones'ly, m'lad, what did that dust ever do to you?" he asked, opening the door fully and striding in, dressed in robes of cherry red velvet. He looked, in Harry's opinion, like a much thinner version of Father Christmas, a rather funny sight in the middle of October.

"Aberforth!" Harry exclaimed in surprise, pulling up his wand abruptly and causing a shower of gold sparks to emit from the end of it. He blushed in embarrassment and adjusted the pillows behind his back so he could sit up straighter.

Aberforth clucked his tongue good-naturedly. "No sense stoppin' the spell midway through," he chuckled. "Reducto!" The dust bunny at which Harry had been aiming exploded in a small cloud of smoke and fine particles of dust. "Knew there was a reason I made Kibbly do this stuff," he commented, sneezing loudly.

Harry laughed. Not only was he incredibly glad to see the old barkeep, but any distraction from his forced boredom and solitude was more than welcome. "Hi," he said, wincing slightly as he pulled his pajama shirt closed. Even with all the potions Madam Pomfrey had left behind two days before, the burn on his chest continued to be a very painful reminder of the destruction of Slytherin's locket, and even Harry's usual modesty could not keep him from leaving his top open or off as much as was possible.

"No need to hide it, Harry," Aberforth said gruffly. "Lupin told me what happened."

Harry nodded but did not open his top, no matter how much the stinging pain in his chest increased when it came into contact with the worn cotton of his pajamas. He wondered how long it would be before he could wear a shirt or robes without discomfort.

"My brother always thought scars were useful," Aberforth commented. "Never really thought so meself, I have to admit. I have a right ugly one across my back from when I -" He stopped abruptly. "Well, suffice to say that I don't find it to be useful in the slightest."

Harry grinned in spite of himself, wondering exactly what Aberforth wasn't telling him about the scar on his back. He didn't ask, however, but instead invited Aberforth to sit in the wingback chair next to his bed.

"How are you feeling, lad?" Aberforth asked as he settled into it.

"I'm fine," Harry replied automatically. "I'm only in bed because Ginny won't let me get up."

"Never get crossways with a Weasley woman," Aberforth replied matter-of-factly. "One of the best bits of advice Al ever gave me, and trust me, he gave me a fair share of it."

"Professor Dumbledore talked to you about Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked with interest.

"Well, not exactly," Aberforth said, "though I know he held her in the highest esteem. His advice actually had more to do with her mother, Esmeralda Prewitt, who could tear a man up, down and sideways when she had a mind to."

"Must be hereditary," Harry muttered, feeling a bit grumpy again.

"The Prewitts were family friends," Aberforth continued. "Was a damned shame what happened to Molly's brothers in the first war, a damned shame. Better people you could never find."

"It seems like you and Professor Dumbledore knew everybody," Harry commented, hoping Aberforth would tell him more about their family. For reasons he couldn't exactly explain, Harry felt an immense curiosity about the former headmaster, his brother, and in fact, their entire family.

"Well, you can't come from the 'distinguished' line of the pure-blooded Dumbledores without knowing a fair few people," Aberforth grunted, and Harry was surprised at the note of bitterness with which Aberforth had said the word "distinguished."

"Your family goes way back, then," Harry prompted. During his stay at the Hog's Head at the start of the fall, he had often tried to coax Aberforth for more information about the Dumbledore family, but the old barkeep almost always sidestepped his questions, and Harry could never stop wondering why. It was obvious how much Aberforth had loved his brother, and from what Harry had heard, his parents as well...so why was he so reluctant to talk about the family?

"You could say that," Aberforth responded dryly. "All the way back to the four founders, to be exact. It's a small wonder that Al ended up at the school when he could have done so much more, unlike me." The note of bitterness was back, and though Harry had a thousand more questions about Professor Dumbledore's link to the founders of Hogwarts, he didn't ask. He knew from experience that if Aberforth got into a bad mood, he was highly unpleasant to be around.

For a long few moments, there was silence in the room. Looking carefully at Harry, Aberforth finally broke it with a grin and a chuckle. "Why'd'ya want to be hearin' all them old tales, Harry? None of that's so important, now is it?"

"I guess not," Harry shrugged, feeling rather let down.

"Let me tell you what is important," Aberforth continued, leaning forward and placing a gnarled hand on Harry's arm.

"What?"

"We're having some right nice weather outside right now, lad, that's what," Aberforth said, leaning back with a smile. "I've been puttering around in me garden as much as I can. It's chilly, sure, but the sun's shinin' and the flowers have a life of their own."

Harry blinked, trying to force his mind into this new subject. He knew that Aberforth loved the outdoors, but what was he playing at, talking about how wonderful it was when he, Harry, was cooped up in this dusty, gloomy bedroom in Grimmauld Place?

Aberforth did not miss the hint of a scowl that crossed Harry's face before he tried to hide it under a gaze of forced interest. "I'm not tellin' you that for me health, you know," he continued. "Might do you and your little miss some good to get out of this dark old house for a day, don't you think?"

Harry couldn't help but smile as he imagined Ginny's reaction to being called his "little miss," but he decided that, for the safety of his own nose, he had best not try calling her that. "Ginny won't want me to leave the house," Harry replied. "She wants me to rest."

"She told you to rest for today," Aberforth said, winking at Harry. "Tomorrow's Saturday, lad, and I can't think of nothin' better than spending a day around Hogsmeade, or even just in my garden if you want. I'll see to it that you're left alone." He winked again.

Harry brightened a little at the thought of spending a whole day with Ginny, a day unmarred by thoughts of Horcruxes and war. "I wonder if she'd go," Harry said.

"I think she would, lad," Aberforth replied gently. "You know, you're not the only one cooped up in this house."

"I know," Harry said, and he was about to comment that at least Ginny wasn't confined to bed when he reflected that she would probably rather be in bed than helping Molly scrub the kitchen. Though she was not a messy person by nature, Harry knew that Ginny hated housework with a passion.

"Want me to get her?" Aberforth asked, his eyes twinkling so much like his brother's used to that Harry had to look away.

"Sure," Harry replied.

Aberforth left the room and returned a few moments later with a giggling Ginny on his arm, much as though they had gone out for a stroll together.

"Perfect timing," Ginny said, plopping down on the bed next to Harry with a loud sigh. "Mum was about ready to go down and scrub out the boiler room under the kitchen."

Harry wrinkled his nose, remembering how disgustingly filthy it was down there. "Tell her I need your expert medical help," he suggested.

She giggled, nuzzling close to him. "How are you feeling, love?" she asked.

"I'm okay," Harry replied honestly, and then continued before she could make an issue of it, "Listen, Aberforth's invited us to spend tomorrow in Hogsmeade. What do you think?"

Ginny frowned. "I don't know," she said slowly. "Are you sure you're up for it?"

"Yes," Harry said simply, knowing that if he said much more than that, it would likely result in an argument.

"You both need to get out of here," Aberforth said definitely. "It won't do Harry no harm to sit in my garden for some of the day, or to stroll on the street. It's been pretty quiet in town of late."

Ginny considered carefully, weighing the thought of letting Harry out of bed when, in truth, she had planned on making him stay put through the weekend, against the thought of scrubbing out the dirty basement with her mother.

"Okay," she finally acquiesced. "As long as you promise to take it easy."

Harry grinned and put his arm around her, kissing her on the cheek. "I promise."

"That's the spirit!" Aberforth cried jovially, surprising them both. Catching their expressions, he added, "Ain't no use missing out on the beautiful things in life just to fight against some old bugger who ain't got the sense to see them himself," he said.

"You know what, Aberforth?" Ginny said. "I think you're right."

When Aberforth left the room a few moments later, he carefully shut the door behind him and, after glancing around to make sure no one was watching, aimed his wand at the doorknob. The lock clicked softly, and with a nod of satisfaction, Aberforth went down to the kitchen to keep Molly distracted.

* * *

The next day dawned bright and crisp, and after popping into the back garden, Ginny almost cancelled their outing, citing that it was much to cold for Harry to even consider spending the day out of doors. It was actually Molly, of all people, who convinced her to let him go.

"Ginny, dear," she said as she put her heavy cloak on to journey back to the Burrow, "you can't keep Harry locked up inside all of the time."

Ginny's mouth opened in astonishment. Her mother was telling her to take Harry outside in the cold when he had only so recently been so badly injured? This was unprecedented.

"I know, Ginny," Molly said with a smile. "And normally I would agree that a few more days of rest would do him good, but right now I think that getting out a bit would bring some color back into his face, don't you?"

Nodding reluctantly, Ginny agreed to the date after making Harry promise they would come back before it grew dark. Truth be told, she wanted nothing more than to get out of Grimmauld Place for a few hours for some reason other than the war, but she was not willing to sacrifice Harry's health for it. Her mother's reassurance had been just what she needed to allay her conscience.

"Are we going to Apparate?" she asked Harry after her mother had turned on the Apparation point in the back garden and disappeared.

Harry frowned. "I don't know," he said, hoping that his admission of his own weakness wouldn't cause Ginny to change her mind. "I don't know if I should just yet, and to take you with me..." He trailed off, looking at her with a question in his eyes.

"Why don't we Floo, then?" she suggested brightly, causing relief to flood over his face. "I'll just contact Aberforth to make sure the pub's empty first."

"It's seven in the morning," Harry pointed out, laughing. "None of his regular customers would ever think of getting up that early."

"True, but just to be safe," Ginny replied, sticking her head into the kitchen fire and calling for Aberforth. A few moments later, she confirmed that the pub was indeed empty.

Harry stepped into the green flames and shouted, "Hog's Head," tucking his elbows firmly in and bracing himself for the dizzying feeling of hurtling through the many fireplaces on the Floo Network.

He emerged in one piece, though a little green in the face, and dusted the soot off of his traveling cloak while he waited for Ginny to arrive.

"Kibbly's got breakfast ready for you in the back," Aberforth said quietly from behind the bar after Ginny had arrived.

"It's pretty cold for breakfast outside," Ginny said worriedly.

"Stop being so fussy," Aberforth ordered her. "It ain't becoming. You don't think I took care of that? You ain't the only one watchin' out for this young man."

Harry laughed at the expression on Ginny's face, half outraged and half amused that Aberforth would speak to her in that manner.

"Thanks, Aberforth," he said before outrage got the better of his girlfriend. He steered her outside, feeling more cheerful than he had in awhile.

They both shivered as the cold fall air hit them when they exited through the back door of the pub, but when they reached the small table, they felt as though they had entered a heated bubble of warmth, and Harry knew that Aberforth had cast some sort of warming charm around the whole area. He made a mental note to ask how that was done; if he could just learn how, they would never have to stand out in the cold again.

"This is nice!" Ginny said as they settled down into the chairs on either side of the garden table and waited for Kibbly to appear.

"Do you know how he did it?" Harry asked with interest. This seemed like just the sort of spell that Molly Weasley would know.

"No," Ginny said, echoing his thoughts when she continued, "but I bet Mum would give her right ear to learn how to do this."

Harry was about to respond when a 'pop' announced Kibbly's arrival.

"Harry Potter's breakfast," he announced solemnly, and Harry was pleased to see that he was once again wearing his tiny white wizard's robes. He knew that Kibbly would not have revealed himself as a free elf to Ginny unless he had decided she was trustworthy.

"Thanks, Kibbly," Ginny said easily and the tiny elf placed a large tray on the table, complete with a vase containing two red roses.

"You are welcome, Miss Weasley," Kibbly croaked, and then stared at the table pointedly. "You must eat before it becomes cold," he said.

Harry remembered how Kibbly would often stay in his room and watch him eat when he had been staying at the Hog's Head, and quickly began unloading the tray, finding steaming hot plates of fried eggs and sausages under the heavy silver warmers. His stomach growled loudly; none of the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place were cooks, and he had grown rather resigned to the breakfasts of fried ham and toast to which he had become accustomed.

"This looks great, Kibbly!" he said enthusiastically, warning Ginny with a glance that giggling right now would likely invoke the wrath of the rather touchy house-elf standing next to the table.

"Yes," Ginny agreed with forced seriousness, understanding Harry's look. "It looks wonderful. Thank you."

"Kibbly will be thanked when Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley eat their breakfast," Kibbly responded, beginning to sound irritated.

"Right," Ginny said, suddenly all business. She pushed one of the plates toward Harry and then raised her crystal goblet of pumpkin juice in the air and waited for Harry to mimic her actions. "To us?" she suggested, smiling brilliantly at him.

"To us," he confirmed, blushing and uncomfortably aware of Kibbly in a stance of firm determination, staring at each of them in turn and waiting for them to eat.

Just as he had so many times when Harry was staying at the Hog's Head, Kibbly did not leave their sides until they had finished every crumb on their plates and drunk the last drops from their goblets. Harry didn't know why, but it seemed like this particular house-elf had a particular obsession with making sure that the people under his care ate adequately. He made a mental note to ask Aberforth about that when he had the chance.

After the plates were cleared, Harry and Ginny stared across the table at one another, enjoying the quiet, the beautiful scenery of the garden and the fact that they were alone together for what seemed like the first time in weeks.

"How are you feeling?" Ginny asked after a few moments had passed like this, squeezing Harry's hand under the table.

"It hurts a little bit," Harry said honestly, knowing that she would not be satisfied with the obligatory "fine" that he gave to everyone else who asked. "But other than that, I really feel okay, Ginny."

She nodded and smiled at him. "I won't ask again," she said quietly, knowing Harry didn't want to think about Horcruxes that day. "You just let me know if you need anything, love."

"Thanks," he whispered, but he was not sure if he was talking to her or if he were speaking to whatever nameless entity had put her into his life...because he could no longer imagine his life without her.

After putting their heavy cloaks back on (Harry doing his best not to wince at the pain caused by the extra weight on his chest), Ginny and Harry spent some time strolling around Aberforth's garden and then decided to head out to the high street and look in the shops for awhile. Though it was a bit early to be thinking about Christmas, Harry had a vague thought of watching Ginny shop so that he might get some ideas on what to give her.

"Oh, no," Ginny groaned as soon as they had reached the end of the main street.

Harry quickly looked down the street, his hand already clutching his wand, when he realized what Ginny had groaned about. The high street was absolutely packed - it was clearly a Hogsmeade weekend for the students at Hogwarts.

"Quick," Harry whispered, pulling at Ginny's arm, but it was too late.

"Wotcher, Harry!" shouted a cheerful voice from about a quarter kilometer down the road. She was so loud that everyone in her vicinity immediately turned to see if she was really talking to Harry Potter, and when it was clear that she was, six or seven cloaked figures hurried towards them.

"Honestly," Ginny hissed. "Tonks might have had more sense." Though she had no objection to seeing their friends, she had not been prepared for the kind of stir their appearance might cause, and she worried that it would be too much for Harry. She had not missed his wince of pain when he had put on his cloak, and she rather thought he was looking a bit peaked.

Harry didn't have time to reply as they became surrounded by sixth- and seventh-years, mostly from Gryffindor.

"Wow, Harry!" Neville said jubilantly. "I didn't know I was going to see you here! I almost didn't come..."

"Ginny! Harry!" Colin Creevey beamed as he looked at the two of them. "All right, Harry?" he asked, just as he always did, waiting for Harry's response.

Harry tried to grin. "All right," he answered.

"You know, you really should have owled," Luna said vaguely. "My father sent me some things for you, Harry, because he knows what you are up to. If I had known you were coming, I would have brought them."

Conversation came to a dead halt.

"The whole Wizarding world knows what he's up to, Luna," Ginny said to cover the awkward silence. "It's rather obvious, isn't it?"

Luna leaned forward and even Tonks could not effectively pretend she was not straining to hear what the blonde Ravenclaw would say.

"It's the army of Heliopaths, isn't it?" Luna whispered confidentially. "I told you about them last year, and now you're going off to defeat them, aren't you?"

"Erm...no," Harry said.

"Luna, everyone knows he's off to fight He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" Dennis Creevey squeaked excitedly.

She turned to look at him with the eye of a patient tutor. "Of course he is," she said lightly. "But he's got to get through the Heliopaths and the Inferi first, doesn't he?" She turned back to Harry. "If you'll just tell me where I can owl you, I'll send the things from my father right along. I have my own owl now, you know."

Harry was still trying to clear the image of a full army of Inferi out of his mind and didn't respond right away.

"Harry?" Neville, Tonks and Ginny all asked at once, breaking him out of his nightmare. He shook his head slightly and refocused on the group around him, which was thankfully shielding him from the gaze of the other students coming up and down the street.

"Sorry," he said. He caught Ginny looking questioningly at him, but his glance warned her not to say anything. Tonks, though she was in the Order, was not privy to the information about the Horcruxes. Though Harry trusted her as much as he did almost anyone else, he worried about the danger she could be in, possessing that information. No, he thought again as he looked at her keen, piercing gaze, Dumbledore was right. The fewer people who know, the better.

"Harry?" Luna persisted.

"Just give anything you have for me to McGonagall," Harry replied absently. "Or Tonks. Okay?"

"Right-o," Luna replied, and now that this peculiar conversation seemed to have been concluded, everyone else started talking at once.

"Where have you been, Harry?"

"Are you really going to fight You-Know-Who?"

"Are you going to come back to school?"

"Why do you look so pale?"

The last question came from Tonks, and Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that she would be contacting Lupin as soon as she got back to her office in the school, or worse, that she would talk to McGonagall about it.

He was spared having to answer any of the questions, however, when Ginny said definitely, "Harry and I have to be getting back. It's been great seeing you all."

"But you've only been here for five minutes!" Neville said, the disappointment evident in his voice.

"Nevertheless," Ginny insisted. "We've got a lot to do today. Come on, Harry."

Harry gave Neville a look that plainly stated, "Sorry, mate, but what's a guy to do?" and let Ginny lead him back down the alleyway and to the back entrance of the Hog's Head.

Aberforth met them in the garden, looking worried. "I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I didn't know it was a Hogwarts weekend. I'm not in the loop so much now as I used to be. You two all right?"

"Ran into a few people," Ginny said, and then hastily added, "all friends. It's ok, Aberforth. We'll be off again in a few minutes."

Harry looked at her in surprise. It was barely midmorning...surely she didn't mean to go back to Grimmauld Place already? Though the day had, so far, not gone as well as he had planned, Harry was not ready to shut himself and Ginny back up at Headquarters just yet.

"We're just going to take a walk, somewhere less conspicuous than the high street," Ginny explained to Harry's relief. When she winked at him, he suddenly blushed crimson, knowing exactly where she was planning on taking him.

Aberforth chuckled. "Right," he said. "A walk. Well, then, I'd best get back to me pub. Kibbly! Where is that blasted house-elf?" With that, Aberforth walked back into the building, an almost jovial swagger to his step. It could not have been clearer that he thought Harry and Ginny's plans for the afternoon were not only acceptable, but excellent.

Ginny grinned at Harry and raised one of her eyebrows suggestively. "You up for some alone time, love?"

"Erm..." Harry sputtered, not having expected this turn of events in the least. When Aberforth had left them alone the day before, Ginny hadn't wanted to do anything more than cuddle and snog a little bit for fear of tiring him out.

"We'll take it easy," Ginny suggested. "I just thought...well, we almost never get any true time to ourselves." She looked a little awkward all of a sudden, for most of the other times they had been together, their trysts had been more spur-of-the-moment.

Harry didn't, couldn't reply verbally, but he wanted to make sure that she understood he was all for the idea. Grinning in a sheepish sort of way, he reached into his pocket and took out his Invisibility Cloak...he didn't want any interruptions.

Ten minutes later, they reached the back gate of the Shack, and Harry snaked his arm just the tiniest bit out of his Invisibility Cloak. "Secret Unsecured," he whispered, and he heard the lock snap open.

They hurried up the grassed-over walkway towards the back door, stopping only when it shut behind them with a solid-sounding creak and thud. Still under the cloak, Ginny turned to Harry, took his face in her hands, and kissed him softly. After a moment, she stopped, pointed her wand at the door, whispered, "Secret secured," and led him up the stairs.

Neither of them noticed the rat scurrying quietly behind them, a rat with curiously patched fur and a missing forefinger...a rat on a mission.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Minerva McGonagall sat quietly in her office on Sunday morning, reading through her mail. She sighed ruefully, understanding now why Albus Dumbledore had always insisted that his Sundays remain as quiet as possible. One needed the entire day just to catch up on the owls from parents, Ministry officials and school governors, not to mention the startling amounts of minutiae one must attend to in order to keep the school running. Reluctant though she had been to give up her post as Transfiguration teacher, she knew now exactly why it had been necessary. Imagine trying to set examinations and grade essays with everything else she had to do!

Removing her square-shaped spectacles for a moment, McGonagall rubbed at the space between her eyes with her thumb and forefinger before getting up to put a kettle of water to boil on the trivet. She had just sent a reply to a letter from Rufus Scrimgeour, once again insisting that she had no idea what Harry Potter was up to. Not that I would be likely to tell him anyway, she thought bitterly, but she actually found herself a small bit relieved that she could truthfully answer in the negative to his demands for information.

A gentle chuckle behind her caused her to turn sharply from the grate and shoot a piercing glance at the portrait of Professor Dumbledore situated on the wall with the others. His blue eyes were twinkling rather merrily in contrast to her current mood.

"Rather a lot of paperwork, isn't it, Minerva?" The painted Dumbledore situated himself more comfortably in his chintz armchair and waved his wand, causing a steaming, painted cup of tea to appear in his hands. He sipped appreciatively. "Ah," he said, "nothing more relaxing than a nice cup of tea on a cold day."

McGonagall didn't respond, but instead, treated him to a tight-lipped smile as she helped herself to a biscuit from the tartan tin on the corner of the Headmistress's desk.

"Now, really," the painted Dumbledore protested with a slight frown, "there is no need to be rude. You are fully aware that any biscuits I might conjure in this portrait taste abominably like oil paint."

Again, McGonagall didn't respond, but dipped her biscuit into her tea - a rather uncouth habit she had never broken since her girlhood over seventy years before.

"If I might direct your attention away from that delicious-looking biscuit for but a moment, Minerva," Dumbledore said almost reproachfully.

She sighed. For the past five months, the portrait of Dumbledore had seemed to make a point of offering its advice every time she tried to have a quiet moment with her tea and biscuits in her office, but was resolutely quiet at the times when she thought she most needed his advice. "What is it, Albus?" she asked tiredly, setting the biscuit down on her white china saucer and fervently wishing she could install a heavy, opaque velvet curtain over the portrait of her old colleague.

"There is a note from Miss Granger on the corner of your blotter," the painted Dumbledore pointed out. "I believe you might find it of some import."

McGonagall reluctantly pushed the cup and saucer out of the way and found the letter under three or four others. She looked up in surprise. "Albus, how did you know - "

The portrait feigned sleep.

 _Well_ , McGonagall thought dryly as she pulled her cup and saucer back towards her, _at least I can eat in peace_.

A moment later, however, her snack was forgotten as she wrinkled her brow in disturbed puzzlement, wondering why Hermione Granger would be asking her about the cup stolen from the school over fifty years ago. It was an interesting piece of Hogwarts history, to be sure, for the cup had been the only known item of import ever stolen from the school, but she could honestly not see the pertinence of it to the current crisis.

"The cup of Helga Hufflepuff," the painted Dumbledore mumbled. "I had wondered...the binding..."

"What are you talking about, Albus?" McGonagall asked a bit impatiently.

"I believe you would do well to ask Narcissa Malfoy," he said, settling back once more into his chair.

He would say no more.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

The summons came so early the next morning that Harry almost couldn't believe it when he opened his eyes and saw Lupin standing over him, a worried and apologetic expression on his face.

"What?" he asked blearily, slapping his hand around on the bedside table to find his glasses. Catching Lupin's expression once he had found them and focused his eyes to the early morning light, he sat bolt upright.

"What's the matter?" he asked, fumbling on the table again, this time for his wand.

"Calm down, Harry," Lupin said. "I got an owl from Professor McGonagall a few moments ago. She insists that she has to see you as soon as is possible."

"Now?" Harry asked.

"Did anything happen yesterday that I should know about?" Lupin asked shrewdly, looking at Harry, who blushed.

"We saw some people on the street," Harry said, talking a little too quickly, "Tonks and Neville and..." he trailed off, a sudden thought having just occurred to him. "Didn't Tonks tell you she saw us yesterday?"

"Yes, I spoke to her, but she only mentioned that she saw you for a few minutes and that you looked pale. McGonagall seems to be unduly concerned. Did you see anybody else?"

"No one except Aberforth," Harry said. "After that we were under the Invisibility Cloak and..."

"Okay," Lupin said, chuckling in spite of himself. "I understand. Nevertheless, I would suggest you Floo to Hogwarts soon."

"Just me?" Harry asked, feeling a little irritated that his presence had been summoned without so much as asking him what his plans were.

"Just you," Lupin confirmed. "She was quite specific, actually."

Harry was confused. What Lupin was saying made little sense to him. Why did McGonagall want to see him now, and why alone? He had already made it clear that he was not going to reveal his mission, and he had thought they had come to an agreement about that.

"I'm not sure, Harry," Lupin said, catching his bewildered look. "It must have something to do with the Order, I would think...but why she wants you alone is quite beyond me."

An almost inaudible knock sounded on the door. "Harry?" Ginny whispered, peeking her head in. Upon seeing Lupin standing in the room and Harry shrugging on some robes and facing away from her, she blushed crimson. It could not have been clearer that she had expected to find him alone and still asleep; she had wanted to snuggle up with him for the morning as they woke.

She recovered quickly. "Remus?" she asked. "Is everything all right?"

Harry answered for him, biting back another flash of annoyance that she had addressed Remus rather than him. "McGonagall wants me at Hogwarts."

"I'll go get dressed," she said, and turned to leave.

"It's okay," Harry said. "McGonagall wants me to go alone. I'm sure it won't take long."

Ginny frowned. "Okay," she said slowly, sounding a little disappointed.

"I'll tell you anything that happens," Harry promised her, wincing as he pulled his robes over his chest, his back to Lupin and Ginny.

"Why don't I just travel with you?"

Harry wasn't sure why, but this request caused him a flash of annoyance. "I'm just going to Floo," he said, trying hard to sound casual as he turned around. "Straight to her office and straight back. I should be able to manage that, don't you think?"

Hurt flashed in Ginny's eyes at his tone, which clearly betrayed his annoyance. The truth was simply that he hadn't slept well at all since they had destroyed Slytherin's locket, due to the pain in his chest every time he moved. Because Harry had made every effort to hide that fact from her, however, she had no way of knowing that fatigue was the only real reason for his irritation.

"I didn't mean you couldn't manage it," Ginny said, her voice harder than usual. "I just thought you might like the company."

"Look, I'm sorry," Harry said, catching her hand in his. "This shouldn't take long, okay?" With that, he kissed her on the cheek and hurried out of the room for the fireplace in the kitchen, leaving Ginny and Lupin to exchange glances of bewilderment and concern.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

"Potter!" McGonagall exclaimed as Harry emerged from the fireplace in her office and dusted the ashes from his robes. Nymphadora Tonks had told her that Harry had looked rather pale, but she was not quite prepared for the peaked, exhausted look that had overtaken Harry's features.

"Professor?" Harry responded quizzically.

She stepped briskly over to him and took his chin into one bony hand, looking over him critically much like Molly Weasley was wont to do. "What have you been doing, Potter?" she asked anxiously. It was obvious that he had been injured, and McGonagall knew that Madam Pomfrey had been dispatched to Grimmauld Place a few days previously, but the matron had refused to discuss the injury, citing that patient confidentiality was one of her many oaths.

"What I have to do," Harry said wearily, giving her the answer which had become almost rote over the past few days.

"You don't look well," McGonagall continued anxiously.

"I'm fine," Harry answered, looking her straight in the eye.

"Very well," she said with a sigh, retreating to the chair behind her desk because she knew she would get nothing more out of him on the subject.

"What do you need, Professor?" Harry asked quietly after a few moments. He felt highly uncomfortable, knowing that she had not summoned him to Hogwarts so early on a Monday morning so that she could inquire about his health.

"I received a note from Miss Granger on Sunday morning regarding the disposition of a Hogwarts heirloom, a chalice belonging to Helga Hufflepuff that was stolen many years ago, before I became a teacher here."

Harry nodded, wondering why she had requested that he come alone if all she wanted to do was discuss the cup.

"Might I ask what your interest in this artifact is?" McGonagall pressed.

"We think it might give us some information we need," Harry replied, attempting to skirt around the issue without telling an outright lie. He was almost sure that he heard one of the portraits behind him chuckle appreciatively, but he did not turn around.

"Some information?" McGonagall asked, her lips becoming thin with annoyance.

"Yes," Harry answered simply and then, before she could press him any further, asked, "Why did you want me to come alone?"

"Narcissa Malfoy seems to have some idea of the whereabouts of this chalice," McGonagall answered, irritation causing her nostrils to flare. "She insisted she would speak only to you on the matter."

"Mrs. Malfoy?" Harry asked. He had been under the impression that Draco Malfoy's mother, though decidedly unpleasant, knew little about the goings-on of Voldemort and his closest followers.

"Indeed," McGonagall replied curtly. "Narcissa?" she called through the door. "You may come in."

Harry was tacitly amused by the fact that McGonagall used the same strict, commanding voice on adults as she did on students, and he would have been willing to wager his Firebolt on the fact that the haughty, aristocratic Narcissa Malfoy hated every moment of her refuge at Hogwarts.

The door opened and Narcissa Malfoy entered, looking (if it were possible) more slender than before, her features wan and pale, her blonde hair thinner than he remembered and rather lackluster.

"You wanted to speak to me?" Harry asked, feeling something akin to pity for this woman who had lost so much.

"Wanted?" she snapped with a mirthless laugh. "No, I cannot say I wanted to be anywhere near you, Potter, but I do have some information you might find to be...helpful."

His feelings of pity evaporated in the face of her cold, imperious tone and the utterly disdainful way she stared at him as though he were an insect unworthy of consideration.

"Then out with it," Harry said abruptly. "I haven't got all day."

Narcissa did not look the least bit perturbed as she turned coolly to face McGonagall. "I believe I requested this interview to take place with Potter alone, Minerva."

"Potter is alone," McGonagall stated flatly, knowing where this was going and not willing to budge.

"Then I have nothing to say," she said, turning to leave.

"Professor, please," Harry said quietly.

McGonagall looked at the boy she had watched so closely for the past six years. Gone was the child she could cow with a look, to be replaced by a young man far too serious for his years. Noting the pleading quality to his voice and the quiet desperation in his features, she finally nodded.

Narcissa did not turn back until McGonagall had swept past her and the heavy door had clicked shut.

"You wanted to know something about Helga Hufflepuff's golden cup, I understand," Narcissa said, seeming again like the tired and grief-stricken woman Harry had glimpsed as she had come through the door.

"Do you know where it is?" Harry asked, getting straight to the point.

"I do," Narcissa answered. "It is in Malfoy Manor."

Harry narrowed his eyes, wondering whether or not to believe her. He was not willing to lead himself and his friends into a trap.

"You think I am lying?" Narcissa asked.

Harry did not respond. Instead, he stared at her, trying hard to discern her true purpose.

"As I have told you before, I hold no loyalty to you or to your cause," she stated bluntly. "My only objective at this time is to avenge the death of my son, and I can think of no better way to do it."

Harry continued to stare at her.

"The Dark Lord is closer to immortality than any man has ever been," she stated flatly, her voice betraying no hint of emotion.

"What do you know about it?" Harry asked, but his tone wasn't rancorous. If Narcissa Malfoy knew of the Horcruxes, he needed to know.

"I know that this cup is more precious to the Dark Lord than many other objects, even some far more valuable," Narcissa replied. "I can only conclude that it has something to do with his quest for immortality. You do know that he is descended from the fathers of this school," she added, looking distastefully around her as though this distinction were nothing that deserved much notice.

"Yes," Harry answered shortly. He did not need to be reminded of Voldemort's ties to Salazar Slytherin, though as he thought of that, the locket and now the cup, he wondered if there was any special significance to it. "You're sure it's at Malfoy Manor?"

"Of course I am," Narcissa snapped, sounding more like herself again. "I did not request to meet with you on mere whim."

"Then how do we get in?" Harry asked, finally certain that he believed her even though he was not sure exactly why he did.

As she explained how to get past the wards of the family manor, her voice growing increasingly bitter with every syllable, the bedraggled rat under the desk had to fight himself from letting out a loud squeak of excitement. He knew that the information he now possessed would get him back into the good graces of the Dark Lord.


End file.
